


loose engagements

by peculiarblue



Category: Girl Meets World
Genre: F/M, fake dating fic gone wild, fuckboy friar, rilaya is so in love, you know you wanted it
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-01
Updated: 2016-11-06
Packaged: 2018-08-12 07:50:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 28,013
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7926628
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peculiarblue/pseuds/peculiarblue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>it's all just a whole lot of middle</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. what happens on the third floor

**Author's Note:**

> hi friends i'm back and i've decided to write another novel but i'm being nice and i'm gonna do it in parts (since 9/10 comments on my last story were "it was great but my eyes hurt") also the narrator/pov is a mystery--good luck trying to figure it out (god only knows how many times I changed my mind on who it'd be, so I probably couldn't even get it right) anyway, this is like a fake dating fic on steroids. I went wild. i had so much fun. Hope you do too. lml lots of love --katie

* * *

 

 

“Oh great, so now this is  _my_ fault?”

 

“I never said it was your fault! God, do you always need to make _everything_ about _you_?”

 

“Well maybe if you didn’t leave me to do all the work every _fucking_ time so you could go off and screw your girlfriend—”

 

“Here we go again with your shitty mouth, no wonder everyone thinks this is on you!!”

 

“You are just as shitty, don’t start this.”

 

“I haven’t started anything. If you remember correctly, we’re in this whole mess because of the fact that I _never_ start anything. I always let you do that.”

 

“Look at you, making this whole thing seem like _my fault_ again. ‘Oh look at me, generous and kind, letting the nice intern do all my dirty work!’”

 

“You are a mess.”

 

“You know what, screw you. I quit.”

 

Worst last words she’s ever thought of. Who walks out of a building after being fired, yelling, “SCREW YOU I QUIT”? She’s heard her fair share of last words, and dammit she fucked hers up. If she was going to be kicked out of that place any day she at least wanted to do it with a bang, something for those preppy assholes to remember her by.

 

Remember her, they would. But not for epic last words.

 

Maya has been in LA for three going on four years now and she loves it just as much as she hates it. It’s got flaws, everything on this planet does. But she’d pick it out of all the flaws the world has tried to stick her in. But three going on four years or not, she’s still that kid with messy blonde hair from New York with that god-awful big mouth. And she’ll argue to her grave that the people here just don’t like her and they’re jackasses who use 3 different forks to eat a meal and she uses her hands and a college meal voucher and they don’t like that kind so that’s why the kicked her out.

 

But her ‘boss’ swears it’s the scandal she printed before they wanted it printed that has the media in hysterics.

 

Oops?

 

Maya knows she has a big mouth, but she learned in high school that her big mouth could look a lot better on paper than it did yelling at those punks in the hallway. So she got her mind set on being a writer.

 

She’s in college, a senior now, in her dream city, LA, and she was working her dream job until she fucked that up. (But she didn’t, she swears that wasn’t her fault at all, preppy assholes).

 

 _Above_ Publications Company is one of the biggest news offices in the California, not to mention the world. Runs all the stories that people want to listen to in all their award winning, million-dollar magazines and online columns they run. The best of the best work there. Sure, there’s other companies just as successful and noteworthy in their publishing, but _Above_ is elite. The office shimmers and sparkles. They get all the Ivy kids. You make the big bucks. They’re a rich people’s company (which is why she keeps referring to them as the preppy assholes as opposed to just the assholes there’s a clear difference).

 

Normally, these things wouldn’t bother her, god knows she’s the furthest thing from a preppy asshole (the preppy part, at least) but her stay in the college dorm would be coming to a close very soon, and LA apartments aren’t looking cheap.

 

The internship she had gotten at _Above_ was perfect. She’d complete her time filling cups of coffee or making copies or answering calls or whatever it is interns are supposed to do and little by little the big guys in the suits would start to notice her pieces and “Why don’t we run this in the daily column on our website?” and next thing you know, she’ll be a big guy in a suit, working full time at one of the best media companies in the world and sending any money she wasn’t busy rolling in on her gorgeous marble floors of her mansion back to her mom in New York.

 

But she got stuck as the intern for Farkle Minkus. God, anyone but him and her plan would have worked perfectly.

 

Poor dumb kid is brilliant beyond his years but he’s still a poor dumb kid and you can tell his brilliant brain wants _anything_ but to be stuck as an editor for some tween pop magazine but he could not hold any other job and his dad is part owner of the company so here he is. He’s got a hot girlfriend though. So she hears. (She’s probably a robot).

 

Farkle and Maya had fun in the office, and that’s why at first she thought she literally could not get a _better_ internship. But for as fun and brilliant as he is, he has made it clear that he doesn’t want to write and print and edit and publish and spread _anything_ , so Maya would do it.

 

He would fill the coffee and make copies and answer calls and start card games when they should have been at meetings and take lunch breaks at the wrong times and that was it. The fact that he ever did anything.

 

Maya, again, thought of this as a blessing, as she’d have the big guys see _all_ her work, she’d get a job like it was nothing. But Farkle wanted his job too, needed it, and he’d take all the credit for her good stuff.

 

But he was fun, he was a friend, and he was doing his part to slip in a good word on Maya here or there with his dad because she was fun and a friend too, so it was fine. It was all fine.

 

But like I said, he did nothing. Literally nothing. And nothing didn’t help when this happened.

 

It started when Maya and Farkle were racing down the office hallway in their desk chairs. They rolled down the hallway like it was their job, laughing until tears formed in their eyes and their stomachs hurt. But they choked the stomach thing up to 50/50 laughter/hunger.

 

There was a meeting Farkle was supposed to be at in 20 minutes. And they were hungry.

 

So the chairs went back and they raced each other to the elevator and out the door, down the streets, who needs a cab, down another street and another and then they were sitting, eating, laughing, forgetting about the meeting in 20 minutes that now happened 50 minutes ago.

 

It was fine. They do nothing.

 

They come back into the office, rather, _she_ does, because what else could they possibly have to do for the day? He’ll run down the street to pick up his girlfriend and she’ll run back inside to get the books she left in his office that she needs for her classes tomorrow (because she still takes those, you know, college) and that’ll be it.

 

The elevator ride is less fun when you’re doing it by yourself, but she’s imagining the way she’ll do it as a big guy in a suit someday, and that’ll be fun, whether it’s with Farkle or not. It’ll probably be with him; she’d be his personal assistant forever if they offered it up for her. She was bummed at first that he got all the credit, but he didn’t gloat, he didn’t take extra money or promotions or anything, he just wanted to keep his job. She respected that. She admitted it _was_ kind if fun, like publishing under a pen name, a pseudonym. It was exciting to see which of her friends would figure out it was actually her work, one by one, they’d call and say “That Farkle Minkus guy sounds a lot like you in this article about the new Snapchat update!”

 

She click-clacks in her flip flops (because why the hell not, she’s not getting paid) back to his office and grabs her books and papers. But then, under the pile, she sees some prints, an article they were supposed to have on the website by the end of the day.

 

It was 5:30. If the article isn’t in soon Farkle would get in trouble. She has a thought. A bad one, but what would you expect. I know you barely know her yet, but I do, and it wasn’t as bad as it could get. She had reasoning: she didn’t want Farkle to get fired because he didn’t do his job, ironic, but true. Technically, she wasn’t supposed to do these things without him there, what did she know, little intern girl from the wrong side of the tracks trying to get on the right one? But Farkle, we’ve stressed, is too smart for this job, can’t be bothered to do it, he’s out having fun with his girlfriend. She should put it up for him.

 

These were her favorite articles to write. Juicy ones. Pop-star gone bad. She and Farkle keep tabs on how many dirty stories they can scrape up on all the stars, but Lucas Friar, oh man, _golden_ bad boy. He needs his own separate tally chart. Three days ago, Maggie from down the hall printed up the story for them and Maya took it to write it. A good one. A headliner, it could be, if that princess from another country wasn’t married and apparently that trumps bad-boy drama for the headline.

 

She’d put it up on the website. No harm, right? I mean, harm to him, duh, because the glorious dirt they’d managed to find on his cocky mega-star ass was just that, glorious and dirty, talk about preppy asshole, but it wouldn’t harm her or Farkle.

 

She decided she’d do it. If the news broke that she was able to do this all on her own, god, she’d have that job tomorrow and be in the mansion next week.

 

She logged onto his computer and searched for the file. They had 3 versions saved. She was just trying to remember which one was the right one when her phone rang. Isadora, her roommate, was calling to say her ex-boyfriend decided to drop in again but this time he did it when no one was there and he trashed the place and gosh darnit, Maya, why haven’t you taken the key back yet, my lava lamp goo is all over my giant periodic table!

 

“Sorry, Is. He’s a dick. Just because he’s mad I wont suck his anymore doesn’t make him any less of one.”

 

“You’re gross. But I told you he was, like after the second date.”

 

“I know, this is not the time to rub in your smart brains, okay? Fuck, I need to get that key back.”

 

“Yeah, you’re three months and our ripped green rug too late. I’m getting a new roommate.”

 

“You’ve said that for 4 years.”

 

“I’m really gonna do it. One more visit from Josh—”

 

“We don’t say his name!” She screeches, and looks up from the computer, a break in trying to crack the password on these documents so she can figure out which is the final edit that she has to publish. Stupid passwords. She really can’t remember anything now, especially when Isadora brings up the black hole in her life that is her ex.

 

“You can’t file a restraining order if you can’t say his name.”

 

“Shut up, I have to send this article in and then I’ll be there to help clean up. Go get us dinner.” She’ll go with the third one. It’s got the latest update on it, it has to be the last one the edited. She clicks it and lines it up for online publication.

 

“Do I have to do everything?”

 

“I’ll give you a hug!”

 

“Gross, but I’ll do it anyway.”

 

“God, I love you. Wait, the article is going to be up in 40 seconds. Look at it.”

 

There’s a pause on the line and Maya hears her click some keys and then, “Ooh, Fuckboy Friar is back! God, it’s like he’s flirting with me through the screen. Is it hot in here?”

 

Maya chuckles to herself and starts to pack up her stuff. “When I make it big here, I’ll be sure to set you two up,” And she’s coming up with some sort of other comeback when Isadora screeches a very loud, very _bad_ word through the phone.

 

“What? What is it? What’s wrong? Is he back again? God, I’m gonna beat him up…”

 

“No, Maya. This article is screwed up.”

 

“Yeah, you know that. This kid is so screwed up, I almost feel bad for making a mockery of him in the media so often. I think he needs a hug. Everything is fixed with a Hart Hug.”

 

“No, Maya. _You screwed up.”_

“A typo? Shit, I thought I picked the right one.” She mumbles under her breath as she starts to turn the computer back on to see what she posted.

 

“Worse than a typo, dude. Did you write this when you were drunk?” Her roommate nervously chuckles to herself, half-joking, but that’s when it hits Maya.

 

They did write something, last night, after Farkle took her to that secret office party and they got _trashed, wasted_ and they ran in here to write up something, gives these preppy assholes a piece of their mind, as well as Fuckboy Friar.

 

“No, no, no, no. Shit! Shit! Yes, we did, Is, we wrote this article _so_ drunk.” She scans over it, unable to move, as she sees the horror that she just published for the world to see. People get updates, reminders, little notifications on their phones that their favorite media site has been updated and they’re probably already feasting on this article with all of it’s glorious dirt on the girl Lucas Friar played this time and his new driving ticket and how he’s spiraling out of control and what the fuck is up with those blue eyes they’re definitely fake and his ass is not normal for a male and did you see all that alcohol he was drinking last night and did you know he was just as wasted as the writers of this article?

 

The article is littered with curse words, flat-out lies, caricatures of their jerky bosses, trash-talking _Above_ , god, this article is above. Above what, she doesn’t know, but it’s above something, it’s disgusting and it’s fake and it’s dirty, and the people are going to love it. _Love it._ Everyone loves dirty shit on people, even if they have no idea who Maya Hart is, it says right here she wants to fuck hot Kevin on the third floor and that’s some dirty shit and they will love it.

 

Isadora is screaming something again but she can’t hear because she’s getting another call. Farkle. Shit.

 

“I’m sorry, I know, I know, I know!” She pleads before he can even speak and she hopes it’ll soften the blow but she still has to hold the phone away from her ear when he screams “WHAT THE FUCK, MAYA?!!” that’s how loud it is.

 

“You were gonna get in trouble if the article wasn’t published so I did it, but I couldn’t remember the password to unlock the files to check which edit was the right one because, god help us, you need to make all your passwords so difficult, and so I just picked the one with the latest update and fuck, I forgot we wrote that masterpiece.”

 

“That is not a masterpiece, Maya, we are so—”

 

But he can’t get the last pat of his sentence in because the aforementioned big guy in the suit barges into the room with innocent Maggie down the hall in his fist and she looks scared shitless, exactly how Maya feels inside, but she’s gonna hide it for as long as she can. Which isn’t long.

 

“What is this, Miss Hart?” he booms, dropping the collar of Maggie’s shirt and stalking towards Maya.

 

“I’m sorry, sir, I was just about to delete it and—”

 

“No, you will not touch another button in this building. You have caused enough damage already.”

 

“I’m sorry,” she squeaks, watching her mansion slip away, away, away. She cries.

 

“Sorry won’t cut it, Miss Hart. It’s out there. We cannot get it back. Had you and Farkle decided to show up to our meeting this afternoon, you would have found out that this story has been discontinued. We met with reps of Mr. Friar today and they graciously negotiated a deal with us, in which we will from this point forward publish stories that reinforce and better his reputation.”

 

_Oh shit._

“Maddie was supposed to pass this information along—”

 

“Maggie.” Maya says, almost subconsciously, because you don’t talk back to your big scary boss but despite all laws of human emotions she somehow forgot that and felt the need to correct his ignorant mistake that only a class-A preppy asshole could make.

 

“That’s enough from you, Miss Hart. With this story, not only did you destroy Mr. Friar and this company, you destroyed yourself. I hope this little stunt was worth it.” He slams the door on the small office just as Farkle walks past, and after a surprisingly short screaming match, he throws Farkle into the office as well, and storms down the hallway.

 

Farkle can’t even open his mouth before poor Maggie is in tears, sobbing hysterically, because surely this is all her fault.

 

“No, no. We weren’t even here for you to pass the message along even if you had.” Maya says softly, her heart breaking (yeah, she has one) for the sweet little reporter down the hall who should not be in this mess.

 

“I should have called or something. But I was too busy with my boyfriend, if they find out I was with him instead of working like I was supposed to be.”

 

“Hey, we do so much worse than visit our boyfriends when we’re supposed to be working, ask the idiot over here who was just with his girl.”

 

“Maya, give it a rest, I’m not the bad guy here! God, you had to do this today, too, because it was our anniversary and we were gonna, you know, but now here I am, just when things were getting…” Farkle starts.

 

“Whoa, oh my god, I don’t want to hear it I already am seething with anger. Specifically aimed at you. So don’t push it.”

 

“ME??!” He screeches, and Maggies mumbles, “Maya, Kevin on the third floor is my boyfriend, I’m sorry,” and god could this get any worse, this office is getting smaller and smaller by the second, everything’s closing in on her, and now she can’t even fuck hot Kevin on the third floor and how did Maggie even snag a guy like that but it doesn’t matter she’s not gonna fuck him she’s gonna hug sweet little Maggie while she cries and shoot death glares at Farkle who’s looking more pissed off every time she looks at him and she whispers, “it’s not your fault” over and over again.

 

“You’re right, Maya. It’s not her fault and it’s not my fault either. It’s all _your_ fault!” Farkle says and god give her strength, she’s going to punch him.

 

And that brings us back to…

 

“Oh great, so now this _my_ fault?”

 

“I never said it was your fault! God, do you always need to make _everything_ about _you_?”

 

“Well maybe if you didn’t leave me to do all the work every _fucking_ time so you could go off and screw your girlfriend—”

 

“Here we go again with your shitty mouth, no wonder everyone thinks this is on you!!”

 

“You are just as shitty, don’t start this.”

 

“I haven’t started anything. If you remember correctly, we’re in this whole mess because of the fact that I _never_ start anything. I always let you do that.”

 

“Look at you, making this whole thing seem like _my fault_ again. ‘Oh look at me, generous and kind, letting the nice intern do all my dirty work!’”

 

“You are a mess.”

 

“You know what, screw you. I quit.”

 

And with her terrible last words she storms out of the office, screw big boss man that is surely firing her right now at this very moment, she’s gonna storm out of here like she owns the place. Farkle can go get fired too, or better yet, they’ll keep him and he’ll actually have to do some work, and Fuckboy Friar, good lord, she doesn’t even have enough fucks to give all these people getting in the way of her LA dream.

 

Her dorm is trashed when she gets back, as trashed as she was when she wrote that article that ruined her life, and god, how is she going to even curl up into her bed and sob her eyes out when she doesn’t see it under the mess her ex left.

 

“If it makes you feel any better, some guy named Kevin stopped by and asked if I wanted to go out for dinner. I think he was looking for you.”

 

“He has a girlfriend!” Maya sobs into her pillow on the floor and she feels her goddess of a roommate put a blanket on her and after she can cry and breathe at the same time, she falls asleep.

 

* * *

 

 

“I miss you so much.” She hears Farkle whisper into her hair when he scoops her up into a hug two weeks after _the incident_.

 

“I miss you more. We were so fucking mean to each other last time we were together.”

 

“Yeah we were, I didn’t mean any of it.”

 

“Me either.”

 

“Get a room!” Maya’s roommate yells from her bed, barely picking her head up from whatever nerd book she’s reading now. She could have graduated college last year. Maya gets all mushy when she confesses she stayed just to be with her another year. “Seriously, you are flashing serious heart eyes at each other right now.”

 

“This _is_ my room, Isadora,” Maya yells back.

 

“I still can’t believe you call her Isadora,” Farkle wrinkles his nose and hops onto Maya’s bed.

 

“That _is_ her name.”

 

“No, she’s always been Smackle. Look at her, she’s much more of a ‘Smackle’ than an ‘Isadora’,” Farkle and Maya both look at her, cock their heads to the side, and sigh. Farkle and Isadora are old academic nemeses. What a coincidence.

 

“Whatever, who cares what we call me, spill the juicy details: how did they kick you out? Has the company gone bankrupt? Did Friar ask for my number yet?” Smackle/Isadora jumps on her bed excitedly. Maya is continually surprised by the fact that she isn’t the journalist of the pair of them. She loves gossip.

 

“I was _not_ kicked out. I wouldn’t be here if I was,” he sneers at Smackle, (I like that better, so that’s what I think I’ll use) before continuing, “and if there is anything _Above_ is good at, it’s twisting. They have twisted every drop of that story dry and they’ve come out with only minor scratches and bruises. Honestly, it could have gone much worse, but like I said, assholes are good at covering their asses.”

 

“Preach, brother!”

 

“And Maggie’s okay, I know you were wondering. She stopped coming into work shaking last Wednesday.” Maya lets out a sigh of relief. “But for everything they saved, they lost 2 good things, the first being the mega-talented Maya,” (stop, you’re making her bush!) “and Lucas Friar.”

 

“Oh god, what happened?” Maya almost yells with excitement; she hates that company but she will never hate juicy drama. Fuckboy Friar still has a tally going on how many bad-boy acts he commits, though he’s been rather quiet since the incident.

 

“Did you hear anything about the deal?” Farkle starts, and Maya nods, referencing the yelling the boss man did at her right before storming out of the office, but Smackle is out of the loop, she makes that very clear with some yelling, so Farkle continues to elaborate, “Lucas’s management team met with _Above_ that day, at the meeting we skipped, and they struck up a deal. I don’t have specifics, but basically, we got a shit ton of money and Lucas got a good rep. We’d publish stories and articles and interviews that made him look really good. We’d bolster his reputation, fix it up until it was nifty and clean and beautiful like his eyes, god just let me have this man crush, and he’d be on the right track. Apparently, this big new movie series wants to hire him, but him being such a copyright bad-boy would carry with the movie. He’s got millions of fans, but this movie franchise is supposed to be so big, it can’t rest on his fans, they need billions of fans, and if he keeps drinking and dropping girls, fans are not going to support the movie, not to mention all the staff that won’t work on the movie if he’s on it.”

 

“Yikes.”

 

“I know. So his management team had the right idea coming to us, we’d make him look good and if he kept it up for a while, there’d be no scaring away of fans and the movies would be fine. But then we…”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“So they obviously took their money back and stormed out. A little more elegantly than you, but they were still hella pissed.”

 

“I mean do you blame them? You stripped away every redeeming quality that kid had left, except for his looks. Maya, honey, your writing is good, but not so good that you can make his holy abs be any less sexy.” Smackle chuckles from the bed and scoots in closer, ready for more of the dirt. Maya rolls her eyes.

 

“I’ve got nothing else.” Maya and Smackle moan in disappointment and Farkle throws his hands up in defense, “Team Friar ran out of that place and no one has heard from them since. They’ve been so low on the radar not even Chris can find them.”

 

“No! Creepy Chris?!”

 

“No where. Who knows where they’ll turn up next? Maybe their new plan is to just hide out until the movie premiere.”

 

“Won’t work. We’ll find him eventually.” Smackle says and sits back in her bed, the fun stuff over. “And then he’ll look into my eyes, see his beautiful reflection in my glasses and trick himself into falling desperately in love with me.

 

“Alright, well I can’t wait for Lucas to fall in love with you so I can live off your wedding gifts. I’m gonna need a job until then.” Maya says and Farkle looks up.

 

“That, my dear, I have all covered.” He pulls out some papers and hands them to her. “You are going to work for The Enemy.”

 

“No way.”

 

“Yes way.”

 

“Guys who is ‘the enemy’?”

 

“How did you—?”

 

“It’s just an interview, but you’ll get it. My dad knows people.”

 

“You didn’t have to do that.”

 

“Guys, answer me.”

 

“Of course I did. You’re too talented to get stuck at _Above_ anyway.”

 

“I’m gonna cry. You’re too good to me.”

 

“GUYS WHO THE FUCK IS THE ENEMY???!” Farkle and Maya snap their heads at the sudden scream from Smackle.

 

“Jeez, take a breath, Is. It’s Black Diamond Media.”

 

“No way! No way! Oh my god, you guys!!” she screeches, dripping with sarcasm and mockery.

 

“Shut up. This is huge, Black Diamond is one of the biggest entertainment media outlets in the world.”

 

“That’s exactly what you said about the last place, Maya. What makes this any different?” She raises an eyebrow.

 

Farkle takes over here, “The CEO of _Above_ fired his brother from the company a few years ago. He was brilliant, a great manager, extremely creative, everything Mr. The Boss was not, and that made his weasely ego scared. So he kicked him out. And instead of pleading to get back in, he opened his own company, thus creating The Enemy.”

 

“You don’t hop from one to the other. You pick a side. The brothers have this crazy rival going on now, and while _Above_ is still at the top, they’re teetering. Black Diamond is huge, they’re genius, and they’re _this_ close to one-upping _Above.”_

“Oh, okay. So you’re in. You’re gonna get your revenge,” Smackle says and nods mischievously.

 

“Something like that. I have to get the job first.”

 

“You will. Tomorrow.” Farkle says and the two girls gape.

 

“TOMORROW?!” they both scream.

 

“Yeah, it’s gonna be great. You got this. Don’t say I never did nothing for ya. Anyway, I gotta go. This was nice. Coffee, all three of us, next week. Bye.” Farkle stumbles up and out the door, waves, and then that’s it.

 

Tomorrow. Things are gonna change. She’ll be fine. She’s not doing nothing.

 

* * *

 

She’s up at 2:37 and 4:09 and 4:12 and 5:40 and 6 and could someone up there please help her sleep more than a minute tonight, she needs it. The biggest day of her life is tomorrow, yikes, _today_ and she cannot keep her eyes shut. She’s jittery and shaky, she’s sweating, then she steals Smackle’s blanket, she’s pacing around the room and then she can’t keep her eyes open. This is ridiculous.

 

At 6:47 she decides it is not worth it anymore and she goes to the showers. She hopes it will wake her up but nothing, it does nothing and she’s pacing again, throwing clothes everywhere as she tries to decide what she should wear.

 

“None of that. You can’t wear anything you own. You look like a mess. Ripped jeans, t-shirts, paint everywhere. No. Take something of mine.” Her roommate is up, collecting the clothes strewn around the room and placing some more professional options on her bed. Maya looks at them and they’re all much better, but she can’t wear that.

 

“Is, I feel like I’m going vomit all over everything. I can not get myself to squeeze into one of those dresses. I don’t even think I can go. Feel my head,” Maya presses her hand against her sweaty forehead.

 

“You are tinier than me, in a nice way, Maya, and you take showers that reach temperatures that don’t compare to the Earth’s core.”

 

“Is that hot?”

 

“Very.” Smackle shakes her head and put together a different outfit for Maya, consisting of her own clothes, professional or not. “You’re getting worked up over nothing. You’re fine.”

 

Maya shakes it off. She’s gonna do this. She’s got this! She knows she’s just thinking she’ll throw up because of nerves, but she knows that even if she did, she’ll be fine, because she’s Maya freaking Hart and she’s getting that job.

 

The walk to the Black Diamond building is long, but relaxing. The air is cool and her sneakers are comfy. She shakes a little less. Farkle calls on the way to make sure she’s going through with it and why did he ever doubt her? And then five minutes later he calls again because he needs to be really sure, like really really really, that she isn’t bailing. And she’s not, dammit, she’s opening the shiny glass door right now.

 

And she feels like shit.

 

God, she feels so sick still, but that’s not even the worst of it. The building is immaculate. If you thought _Above_ was stellar, this place is a different galaxy. Not the same though. They’re not preppy assholes. They’re probably some degree of assholes (aren’t they all?), but this place is insane. Everything is modern and slick, too cool to be a place that has the power to both destroy and build careers with just 26 letters. She walks up to the desk, signs in, and is pointed, barely greeted, toward which set of elevators to use. She presses the button, feels queasy, and then she’s on the third floor.

 

The third floor at _Above_ had one hot guy. Black diamond has so many. It must be a job requirement. She’s not getting this job, she’s convinced, in her ratty sneakers and baseball tee.

 

She walks up to yet another desk, but this time, the secretary all but kisses her in greeting. So freaking bubbly, god it makes her sick. (She’s lying, this girl was cute, and she can’t admit it).

 

“Hello! Welcome to the third floor. I’m Riley, they stuck me out here because I used to talk too much during interviews. Not that you care, but I’ll keep telling you anyway because you seem to not have many words inside you and I’ve gotta make up for that. You have a pass?” She beams and Maya has so many words for her. So many. She hands her the paper the front desk in the lobby gave her.

 

“Okay, Miss Maya,” Riley says as she scans the paper, standing up from her purple chair, “Let’s see why you’re here. Oh! Lucky you. I’ve been dying to see what’s going on in there all day. Girl after girl they’re sending in. They all come out in tears. I can’t think of anything worse. Red room, last door on the right.” She points down the hallway behind her.

 

“It’s a job interview.” Maya doesn’t know what makes her continue the conversation, that was the perfect point to cut it off with this sunshiney girl, but she does anyway, and that’ll haunt her forever (dramatic, but kind of true).

 

“Oh really?” Riley says, her curiosity peaked, so she keeps on walking with her. She looks Maya up and down, and without missing a beat, smiles brightly and says, “You’ll get it.”

 

“I keep hearing that,” Maya shakes her head.

 

“Well that means you’ve got a lot of people who believe in you. And one new friend that’s just got a hunch.” Oh god, not a _friend_. She didn’t need that. No. “I’m not allowed to go in, but don’t forget to tell me all about it before you leave. And try to smile. I promise you’ll be fine. They can only make you cry if you let them.” Maya cracks a crooked smile that doesn’t even show her teeth. “Ugh, you’re beautiful. Go get ‘em, girl.” Riley waves and bounces away, leaving Maya speechless.

 

She twists the door handle, and walks into a very red room indeed. The walls are bright, blinding, hot. No wonder they do interviews in here, scare the shit out of everyone, weed out the weak. There’s nothing but a large TV screen and a long black table with chairs in the room. And one person.

 

“Another one? They haven’t given up yet?” Mystery man drops his head to the table and sighs. Maya is stuck in her speechless mode. “Maybe we should try guys. You never know, maybe he’s into something like that? Ugh, this is ridiculous, I’m just so…” he looks up and clenches his fists, shaking his head. Then he looks at Maya. “Shoot, where are my manners, this mess isn’t your fault, you’re supposed to help us. I’m sorry. You can have a seat. The Assholes stepped out for a second. Needed a bathroom break after the 30th consecutive interview and they all leave together. Freaks. Probably robots. I hate them.”

 

Maya sits down nervously and watches mystery man pace the room. “If you don’t mid me asking, who are ‘The Assholes’?” she can’t help but laugh when she says it. She hopes this is not a part of the interview.

 

“The stuck up bitches and occasional dicks, the bitches make sure they don’t stick around too long, on this idiotic management team.”

 

“Oh my god, I called them the same thing at my old job. Asshole is just such a great word, isn’t it?” she relaxes back into the chair as the mystery man comes to sit next to her.

 

“Yeah, finally someone who gets me. You work in publicity?”

 

“Technically, no. I’m in college to be a writer. I like media journalism, that’s how I got an internship at _Above._ ”

 

“No way, you’re from _that_ hell hole?” His eyes seem to pop out of his head, but he’s got a huge smile on his face.

 

“You’re looking at the very girl who made it the hell hole it is now.”

 

His mouth hangs open, Maya laughs, then he says, “‘Maya Hart wants to fuck hot Kevin from the third floor’?”

 

“The one and only.”

 

“Dude! You’re a boss!! I’m Zay Babineaux and I am a huge fan.” He shakes her hand just as The Assholes come striding in, stony-faced and no-nonsense. Their noses up in the air and their heels clicking in time to the beat of Maya’s heart. They don’t give her or Zay a second glance. They instill terror. They could dominate the world. They don’t crack one bit of emotion. They are robots.

 

And though they scare the shit out of Maya, to the point where she sees why all those other girls could cry, Zay doesn’t miss a beat. He’s up out of his seat, chasing the Army of Assholes down the red room, yelling, “This is it, you guys, I got her. Blink so I know you’re listening, and so I know y’all are human. You guys gotta remind me sometimes.” But they keep walking, clicking, instilling all things terrifying. He’s not phased at all. He’s tapping on their shoulders, squirming in and out of their battle formation. They’re not phased at all.

 

And that’s when she sees it. Etched onto the sleeve of one of The Assholes’s black jackets is a small word.

 

_Friar._

God, no. She’s in for it now. This is no interview—this is her death sentence. She’s not making it out alive. Shit. She has the shittiest last words.

 

This is Team Friar, dressed head to to in tantalizing and terrifying black, sleek, swift, straight from hell. And Zay, god, she should have known. Fuckboy Friar’s best friend, his right hand man, he’s with him everywhere, no matter what mess he’s in, there’s Zay, an angel most of the time because with all of Maya’s snooping she knows Friar could do so much worse but Zay has it under control, well, as best he can do. Maya gives him a ton of credit.

 

Maya can’t get any words out. She wants to say she’s sorry or _something_ but she can’t. She will come out of this room either crying or dead and either way Riley won’t get a story. God, she’s sick of telling stories.

 

Zay is back at the front of the room with The Assholes, poking and prodding them with questions, begging them to listen. They continue to stare her down, like they have computers in their eyes that are analyzing her.

 

He stops next to the woman in the middle, the one that really rains down hell, you can tell, her eyes, you know? The queen bee of the army, Zay pesters her, “Hi, Jenny, honey, can I call you Jenny?”

 

“Jennifer.”

 

“Jenny, okay. Listen, I have made it abundantly clear that I _do not_ like you guys. At all. I said we fix this problem by finding a new you, and you said we’ll just find a new me instead. It’s very generous that you’ve let me stay, but you see that I’m still letting you pick a new me, so give me this. Let me pick her.”

 

“We let you in here, didn’t we?” her icy voice cuts through the air, and Maya can see Zay shift his weight around so he doesn’t punch her, right there, right now.

 

“I know. I know. And I’ve looked at all the girls. And I’m telling you, I _know_ this is the one.” Were they hunting her down or something? Was she on a wanted ad? How much is the reward? Had she known, she would have turned herself in.

 

“How do you know? You slept through most of the other candidates.”

 

“That’s because you freaks sit here in silence! I’m bored!” He waves his arms in the air and still, not one of them moves. “Plus, I know Lucas like I know myself. He’s the only family I have. I know what he needs more than he knows it. Look at her, and tell me she’s not perfect.” He looks at her, his eyes twinkling with something she can’t place. He looks so… _happy?_

 

“We will have a look.” Jennifer cuts into the air again, the room gets tight, Maya can’t breathe. What the fuck is going on.

 

“Oh my god, y’all have been looking at her this whole time!” Zay screeches and walks to the back of the room with Maya. Everything stays silent for a few more minutes and then.

 

“Yes.”

 

“Yes?”

 

“Yes. We will use her. She’s perfect.” WHAT THE FUCK!!!??

 

Maya lifts one of her hands, as if she’s a school girl in a classroom. Jennifer nods and so Maya manages to squeak out, “Um, I’m flattered, honestly, but I’d kind of like to know what I’m being flattered for?”

 

And all at once, it’s like the room lets out a sigh, everything comes to life.

 

They all smile, did you know they can actually do that? And the robots have voices too, ones they use very loudly to chatter among each other, Maya can only make out certain parts. “Her voice is perfect too!” “Isaiah why didn’t you get her to speak sooner?” “Beautiful!” “Look at the color of her hair! You think she dyes it?” “The eyes, that’s what’s gonna get us. You can’t look away.” “Gorgeous.” “I can’t wait to start with her, think of what we could do.” “I call doing her hair.” “The clothes will be fun. They’re ratty now, but think of what we could do with those rags.” “This is it. She’s the one.”

 

Jennifer instructs the rest of The Assholes on what to do, their chatter still as excited, they pull out notebooks and charts and papers, making notes and formulating things. Again, WHAT THE FUCK!!!??

 

She walks over to Maya right after that, and Maya hopes it’s to answer her question, because she needs to know.

 

“Hello, Miss Hart. My name is Jennifer Jaeger, Head Advisor of Lucas Friar’s Management Team. I’m sure you’ve heard of… _the incident_.” Boy, Jenny, you have no idea. “It was not an ideal situation, but we’ve figured it out. We are now working with Black Diamond Media, and they have been wonderful to us, really, exceptional people they have working here. They are going to uphold their part of the deal that _Above_ let us down in. They will publish and spread only good word on Mr. Friar. We’ll build his reputation to a strong point, where his fan base will stay loyal and hopefully, even grow. Those fools at _Above_ created quite the mess. Idiots.” She shakes her head and pulls out some papers from her sleek black folder and pushes them toward Maya on the table. She hears Zay snicker from behind her.

 

“Due to such a mess, unfortunately, good publicity won’t be enough to keep him on track for the movie deal. We’ve put our brains together and have come up with a plan that should do it. That’s where you come in.” She looks her up and down, then continues, “You’re going to marry him.

 

Maya’s sure as hell saying it, but even here I couldn’t help but let out a huge WHAT THE FUCK!!!?? Because seriously, What. Is. Happening.

 

“I didn’t—” is all Maya can choke out, she cannot form words, what the hell. She never agreed to anything like this, she couldn’t have even _imagined_ something like this. How? How could this be happening to her?

 

“I know, sweetheart. I know you’re shocked. You definitely didn’t come in here thinking you’d get the job, I mean look at how you’re dressed. I wouldn’t expect you to be the one. Not in a million years. But you have gorgeous eyes, your credentials are amazing, you’re the perfect age, and damn, can you write. And Zay likes you. He’s usually more trouble than he’s worth, but he’s a savior in most of our situations with Lucas, so we trust him. You’re perfect for this, Maya. Close your mouth and no need to keep so humble.”

 

She’s not being humble, she’s thoroughly pissed off and confused. And she still feels sick. She can’t believe she’s here. She should be in bed. Sleeping. Maybe she is? Is this a dream?

 

No, it’s not. Jennifer’s icy voice makes that known as she keeps talking, “Now this is not just some fling. There is a strict set of rules to make this work. You’ll spend time together for a few weeks, get the public to notice you. Black Diamond will do all the publishing and they’ll find ways to cover all other companies that print against us.”

 

“Sorry to interrupt,” Maya squeaks, “but, he has a problem with girls. How will getting him another girl fix that?”

 

“That’s why we’re making you permanent. You’ll spend a long time with him, and to make it known that you are not just another girl, by the end of the month you’ll be engaged.” And Maya is about to fight her again, but Jennifer already knows the answer, “The people here are already covering up all the stories of the past, making them rumors. People like what’s newest. They’ll believe anything. If we stick you out there with a ring and say, ‘they’re in love’ and give them some articles to reinforce it, they’ll eat it right up. You’ll have fan-pages by tomorrow. We build you while we build him and everything will fall into place. Don’t worry, it’ll be a long engagement. Shows he’s steady and committed, but _you_ won’t really have to commit to anything. We can easily break everything off right after the first movie premieres.”

 

She makes a lot of sense. I mean, she _is_ a robot.

 

“So this is a job?” Maya asks perplexed, because it sounds like she’ll just go around parading a diamond that could pay off all her college debt and kiss a hot pop-star.

 

“Of course. It’ll be a lot of work, but we will be helping you through all of it, and we’re assembling a new management team for just you, and one for the both of you as a couple.”

 

“God, we really need all of that?”

 

“I hope you realize how big this is going to be.”

 

“I do. I just don’t understand what I’m doing?” Look at her, talking like she’s actually going to do this, Jennifer’s icy eyes can hypnotize.

 

“Well, the eyes of the public are always work, but you are a brilliant writer, and we’re going to use that to our advantage. You’ll publish a column on the Back Diamond website to dish all the juicy facts about fame from the inside.”

 

“Doesn’t that go against everything you’re trying to do here?” She just doesn’t understand this.

 

“It could, but you’ll do it the way we want it to be done. You’ll exploit the secrets of Hollywood to make Lucas look like the victim, like Hollywood and fame and publicity have framed him to be this ‘bad-boy’ that so many people know him as. I think within meeting him, you’ll learn that will be a lot easier than you think. He’s not what he looks like from the pages of _Above.”_

 

“Okay, but if I’m writing it, they’ll think I’m biased.”

 

“You’ll write under a pen name, of course, a pseudonym. It’ll add to the suspense, have the public feeding into it all even more. We’ll have his reputation fixed on all sides. It should work perfectly.”

 

This is literally insane. She can’t believe this is happening to her. The plan is incredibly flawed…

 

…but?

 

It’s surprisingly genius. As she’s listening to Jennifer scare the shit out of her, it actually makes sense. I mean, it’s almost impossible to have a monopoly over everything published on a star, but with a company as big as Black Diamond, you could come close. They may not know she was the girl to cause _the incident_ but they must know she has an in at _Above._ They could use her there, and they could use her for their Hollywood exploit pieces. And she’s a blonde living in LA. That works for pop-star relationships, right? They really have this all figured out, and it is pretty freaking genius of them. Robots. Literally robots.

 

She can’t believe she’s actually considering this. Not that they asked her, but she needs to figure it out for herself.

 

She’ll get to live in a mansion and write under a pseudonym.

 

If any job was created for her, this had to be it.

 

She needed a job. And what the hell. She’s living in LA for three going on four years. Might as well jump on the reckless fame bandwagon.

 

Isadora’s going to be so jealous. Fuckboy Friar is going to be her fiancé. How did that happen?

 

She mentally signs on, because Jennifer would never ask, but she’s agreeing for herself, and that’s it. Everything’s fine. She’s doing something.

 

“Sounds good.” She smiles, and Zay jumps up out of his seat in excitement.

 

“Welcome to Team Friar.” He beams. She beams. Jennifer remains a stony-faced bitch.

 

The Assholes assemble back at the front of the red room, ready to explain all the charts and plans and ideas they were chattering about before, but Maya, as good as she feels about this job, still feels really freaking sick. It’s not nerves anymore.

 

“Could I just, go to the bathroom, real quick, before we start this whole thing?” And Jennifer nods. Maya all but runs out the door, down the long hallway and stops at Riley’s desk. She doesn’t know where the bathroom is and she wasn’t asking the robots because they probably change their oil in the office garage somewhere, so she was planning to ask Miss Sunshine, but the desk is empty.

 

She paces back and forth for a few seconds, wondering how long she can wait before she collapses. She starts to walk down another hallway to look for it, or maybe to find Riley.

 

She finds neither. She’s shaking now, and god, she feels so sick, she knew it wasn’t just nerves and Farkle and Isadora/Smackle pushed her out anyway god this feeling is awful. She’s queasy and shaky and sweaty and god this is awful where the fuck is the bathroom she’s about to ruin these beautiful white tiles and—

 

BAM! She runs right into something rock solid, a person, it has to be, and her stomach can’t take it anymore, she vomits everywhere. All over his shoes and his pants, on the floor around him, god this is awful, this is mortifying, she is so sick, she’s sick _everywhere._

 

She feels empty, she hopes there’s nothing left, might as well get it all out now that she’s made herself sick all over the place in public, and when she finds the strength to look up, every bit of it is knocked right back out and she feels like round two of projectile vomit is about to happen because holy freaking goodness _those eyes_.

 

Lucas Friar’s eyes are looking right into hers and holy shit she just vomited all over him.

 

“Holy shit, I just threw up on you.” is what she says to him. God she’s terrible at this.

 

“I think you meant, ‘I’m sorry’.” Screw you, Friar, she’s trying.

 

“I thought that was implied. I doubt you think I meant to do that.”

 

“I thought the fact that you just threw up on me was implied too, but hey you’re blonde, I’m blonde. Good thing we’re clearing these things up.”

 

“Fuck, I think I’m gonna—” She feels it coming again.

 

“You want to know where the bathroom is?”

 

“Also something I thought was implied, dickhead.”

 

“Woah, aren’t you a fun one. God, who hired you?” He laughs, how the fuck is he laughing at a time like this? Then he looks at her eyes, all she can see is his, and then points her down the hallway. “You’ll be back to help clean this up, though?”

 

And he’s lucky he can’t hear her response as she runs down the hall and into a crystal clean stall that she gets disgusting. Everywhere.

 

Riley comes in within 5 minutes of her last sickness.

 

“Hey, at least you’re not crying!”

 

The third floor is a nightmare.


	2. the mosquito

 

* * *

“This is ridiculous, are we really about to do this?”

 

“I think we are.”

 

“You’ll come in, right?”

 

“Of course. This is too good to miss. Besides, I’m the only one who’ll clean you up if you puke again.”

 

“I feel like shit.”

 

“Then they can’t make you feel any worse.”

 

“That was… surprisingly comforting.”

 

The situation was clearly not ideal. She had just puked up all her insides in the (beautiful and shiny) bathrooms of Black Diamond Media’s third floor and now she was headed back down the hallway, where The Assholes and Zay were assembling to begin her transformation from college student with mounds of debt to Hollywood’s most desirable.

 

And with the bit of sickness left on the corner of her mouth that Riley wipes off _just_ before they open the door, she doubts this will be an easy task.

 

“Dude, I liked you before. I _love_ you now!” Zay yells as he spins around in his swivel chair. And while he is loud, the rest of the room is much louder. The walls are lined with racks of clothes, closets upon closets they could fill, and mirrors in between. The long conference table is flooded with pages of magazines, books, papers to sign, as well as shoes and purses and scissors and hair dye (god no, they’re not touching it) and keys and credit cards and Jennifer. There she is, sitting across from Zay, just as icy and cold-hearted bitch secret genius as before. She has notes lined up and her army is working like a machine.

 

“Miss Hart. How are you feeling?”

 

“Well, I’m seeing a lot of bright colors, and I trust all the fashion experts you’ve got in here more than I’d trust myself, but, I’m not feeling the yellow jumpsuit. I’m more of a muted tones person. Black, blue, some green if we’re feeling wild.” Maya starts, but then Jennifer shoots her the laser-eyes, so she backtracks, “Oh. You meant—yeah, got it. I… don’t know what to say about that, except that I think I might need to be excused again.” She stumbles over her words and shoots a glance at Riley, silently begging her to get her out of here. She knew this was insane.

 

“Well, I’d just like to tell you how noble it is of you to come back after such an occurrence,” Jennifer says, and oh man, not the word I would use, more like blood-seeking and germ-spreading revenge, but if you want to use noble, sure, Jenny, go for it. “It shows you have a strong work ethic and determination. You are really going to do wonders for us.”

 

The Assholes stare her down but they look like they’re smiling. Do they love her or hate her? She will never know.

 

Jennifer takes note of Riley’s presence for the first time, and it doesn’t seem to be a very positive one. “Oh, its you again,” she rolls her eyes and sigs, “What do you need to inform us of now? And also, did our lunch come yet?”

 

Riley loses a little of her luster, (really, evil Jenny and the robots? Look at what you did, it’s like watching a fairy die,) but answers anyway, “Uh, yes, actually, it’ll be here in 10 minutes, but that’s not what I wanted to say. I want a job. In here.”

 

“You already work here. You do your nonsense out there, I don’t need your constant jabber in here with me.”

 

“I want her to be my version of you.” Maya speaks up, and Jennifer looks slightly more pissed off than usual, but she continues, “My direction-er or head leader, whatever you called yourself before?”

 

“Head Advisor of Lucas Friar’s Management Team.”

 

“Yeah, whatever, but I want her on Maya Hart’s team.”

 

Jennifer looks her up and down a few more times, and Maya knows she’s gonna say ‘no’, but what the hell, at least she tried it. Deep down she knew Riley would be her saving grace through this mess, she knew Riley would be able to keep her sane, and that desk job she currently has looks like the worst thing you could do to a bright girl like her. She probably talks to the walls to keep busy. She needs to get her out more.

 

“Okay.”

 

“Jennifer, if I could just have you reconsider—wait, okay?”

 

“She’s chatty but she’s smart. She follows the rules. She’ll work for us.”

 

“Yes, oh thank you, thank you, again,” Maya squeals and Riley jumps for joy, literally. She continues, “So now back to this mess, uh, if you don’t mind me asking, where is _he_?”

 

“We’re sending him home for the day, and Isaiah—” Jennifer starts, a pointed glare directed at Zay, who’s playing with the strappy sandals on the table in front of him, “was just about to go with him. Isn’t that right, Isaiah?”

 

“You know, the more you use ‘Isaiah’, the less I’m gonna like you.” He shouts as he stands up. “I’m going, I’m going, I know y’all are gonna miss me, especially you, Jenny. I’ll be back tomorrow, bright and early to change every decision you make today.” He winks and strides towards Maya, and when he’s close enough whispers, “Don’t let them make any decisions I wouldn’t agree to. Call me as soon as you finish here. Their rules are completely different from mine. Theirs are gonna put you on house arrest, mine are gonna take you out for successfully spilling your guts all over my best friend. When you’re done spilling. I don’t need you vomiting and hungover.” He opens the door, gives Maya one last smirk and yells, “I mean it, Maya Hart, call me! And you too, pretty little secretary,” and then he’s gone. God, she’s gonna miss him in here.

 

“Well, this sucks.” Riley says as she sits down next to Maya at the end of the long game-plan table.

 

“Jeez, if you didn’t want the job, you could have just said it.”

 

“Not that. I have a boyfriend already.” Riley glances wistfully out the door that’s just shutting and Maya laughs.

 

“Yeah, and I’m getting engaged.” That statement will never not feel weird.

 

“Alright, well, now that 95% of my headache is gone…” Jennifer stands up and walks towards the army of assholes, “Lets get started.”

 

* * *

 

 Maya wishes she had picked up Riley as a friend sooner. The girl literally laughs at everything Maya says. And Maya is notoriously _not funny_.

 

But there she sits, the driver seat of the car, stopped at a red light with tears streaming down her face because she’s laughing so freaking hard at Maya’s impression of her soon-to-be boyfriend.

 

“‘Look into my dreamy eyes. They only sparkle for you. And the 3 other girls I have hiding in my bedroom as we speak!’” Maya flips her hair and bats her eyes, her voice unnaturally deep and seductive, before she too laughs at this ridiculousness. She and Riley have been going back and forth the entire car ride on how they think Lucas will greet them when they pull up to his house.

 

Maya was whisked into an Asshole Army frenzy for hours the rest of the afternoon, in which she was immersed into the most intense makeover of her life. This gave “What Not To Wear” a run for it’s money.  They immediately changed her wardrobe, (with her opinion of course, a stern hell no to that disgusting floral print maxi dress and that was that,) packing bag after bag full of clothes she was from now on required to wear. She looks down at the cute black romper they stuck her in right now and she decides there are much worse things than being required to use a free personal stylist. She looked hot, not gonna lie. Her hair and makeup were fixed as well, which was a sore subject because she fought 3 people about the truth to the color of her hair. It’s not dyed at all, it’s natural and they’re all just jealous.

 

There were piles of papers to antagonize over, everything she can and can’t say, what she can and can’t eat, what she can and can’t spend (but holy shit, when Jennifer apologized for it not being as much money as they originally intended, Maya was expecting like $20, not more money than her entire college tuition!) and where she can and can’t go. There were speech lessons and etiquette lessons and interview lessons and walking lessons and she felt like a 3 year old, what’s next they’re gonna re-potty train her? She’s a grown adult. She can figure this stuff out.

 

But Jenny assures it’s all a lot more complicated than that, and slips her a paper of the strict schedule she’s to stick to. When she has to report to Black Diamond for writing and more lessons, when she has to report to college for, you know, college, and when she has to report to public appearances.

 

But for as full as her day was, there was something severely lacking in almost all of the conversations: the Fuckboy himself.

 

Not once did they mention where he’d be or what he’d be doing or why he didn’t have toddler 101 lessons to attend. It wouldn’t surprise her if he didn’t have a clue what was going on. This should be fun.

 

She’s living at his house, that’s what they had decided, and she put up a god awful fight to stay in her dorm with Isadora (Smackle, but Maya still isn’t used to it). I say god awful because it ended with her in literal tears and they still told her no. It was hard to get back on schedule after that fiasco. Maya kept some of her stuff there just so she’d always have a reason to come back, but there really wasn’t much room in her schedule (thanks a lot Jenny, you’re the fucking worst). The only good thing was that Riley would be living close, her apartment was just around the corner, and Zay lived with Lucas. And she honestly couldn’t complain about living in such a huge and luxurious house for not a single cent out of her pocket. She was literally getting paid to do this. There were worse ways to work.

 

So, she and Riley packed up everything from the room on the third floor and some things from her dorm and off they went. It wasn’t too miserable yet. It’s fine.

 

“Do another, c’mon, one more!” Riley pleads as they turn onto his street.

 

“We’re too close, Riley, what if he hears?”

 

“Oh my god, we’re not even in his driveway yet.”

 

“He has those robots working for him, you never know.” Maya says as Riley pulls the car into the driveway and comes to a stop.

 

“Alright, it’s show time, sister. You ready?” Riley throws a bright smile at Maya next to her, who looks like she’s going to relive the events of this morning. “There is nothing you can’t do, Maya. You got this.”

 

“How do you know? You’ve known me for all of 6 hours.”

 

“It’s been more than that!” Riley shrieks, offended that she could dwindle their beautiful friendship down to nothing so quickly, “And I know for certain you’re gonna be fine. He may be famous but he’s still a person, deep down inside somewhere. I hope. And I doubt Lucas answers the door anyway. It’ll probably be Zay. Or a maid. And hey, you never know, maybe he’ll be throwing up on you this time.”

 

“Again, you surprise me with how comforting these odd comments can be.”

 

Riley beams and hops out of the car. Maya follows and they walk up the long driveway, past the perfectly manicured lawn, up the regal walkway and search for the doorbell.

 

“Everything is so fancy! Couldn’t they just put a normal person doorbell up here?”

 

“Maybe there’s a spare key?” Riley suggests, so she bends down to look under the mat. She’s still crawling around on the floor searching for something in the flower pots, between loose bricks, in any hidden cracks. Maya tries knocking, but the house is so freaking big it’d be a miracle if someone heard and came to open the door.

 

“Technically, since I’m supposed to be living here now, I _should_ have my own key.”

 

“Maybe he has one in there for you. Or maybe Zay does.”

 

Maya’s getting nervous now. There’s no doorbell, no key, no one to hear them knock, god knows if anyone’s even in there. Maya wants to peek through the window of the door to see, but it’s up at the very, very top of the doorframe, probably so no paparazzi can sneak a peek. And quite honestly, it looks very Maya-proof too. Heels or not, she can’t reach.

 

Maya starts to jump up and down, trying to get a peek into the house, but to no avail. Riley notices and says, “Maya, Maya, stop you look ridiculous.”

 

“And you don’t?”

 

“Not the point. Here, step onto my back and see if you can see anything.”

 

“This is just as ridiculous.”

 

“Says the girl who’s marrying someone she’s never met.”

 

Maya has no comeback to that one, so she bites her lip and throws off her heels, (“Don’t wanna have a holey Riley!”). Riley’s still in her position on all fours, so Maya steadies herself by holding onto the door-frame, and puts one foot on Riley’s back and then the other and then…

 

Swoosh. The door opens.

 

A tall brunette stands in the doorframe, a hand on the doorknob. Her legs are as long as her cleavage excessive, she’s the epitome of a one-night-stand cliché, gorgeous and wind-swept and looks like she just stepped off a runway. “Oh god, look, I’m sorry. I told Luke I’d be down for a threesome, but _two_ of you? I just, I don’t think I’m a foursome kind of girl.”

 

There’s a lot of things going on right now to be embarrassed by. Maya doesn’t know which one she should address first.

 

“We’re not here for that at all, we’re—” She stumbles through her words and off of Riley, uttering nothing audibly coherent, and the girl gives her a look.

 

“Look, I don’t care. I was just leaving anyway. He’s currently throwing up. Left a hickey with a ring of vomit residue. He’s not a quitter, I’ll give him that.” She nods back into the house, “Well, good luck to you in there, though honestly you look more in love with each other than you could ever be in love with him.” She steps out of the doorway and slams the door shut, and it takes everything inside Maya and Riley not to scream, because shit, that was their way in and she literally closed the door on it.

 

They watch the model pull out of the driveway and down the street and does she know how lucky she is to be able to just walk away like that?

 

Maya slides down the door and takes a seat next to Riley.

 

“I’d be up to try it someday if you are.”

 

“A threesome with Friar?”

 

“No, silly. Me and you. My boyfriend’s insane and I hear yours is too. We should protest boys altogether and just elope.” Riley gives Maya a wink before she leans her head on her shoulder and they watch the sun set on quite possibly the longest and most insane day of Maya’s entire life.

 

Who knows how long they’re sitting there before the sky is black and both the girls are jolted awake by the door being abruptly slid out from behind them.

 

“Holy shit, you two scared me!” Zay leaps up when he sees the girls on the floor, scrambling to their feet to get inside.

 

“Let us in!!” Maya screams, desperate to feel air conditioning and a soft couch seat, the nervous trepidation she had about entering before completely swept away in an instant.

 

“How long have y’all been sitting there? Long enough to fall asleep. Did Jenney knock yous out?”

 

“Since the model girl. And now that you mention it, Riles, did that water taste weird to you?”

 

“She didn’t drug us,” Riley rolls her eyes and steps inside, “we’re just flat out exhausted. That management team runs a tight ship.”

 

“Now you know why my boy is so easily driven to alcohol.” Zay smirks. Maya doesn’t. “Well, I’m glad y’all are finally here. I’ll be back to give you the tour in just a second, I have to go pick up some medicine for His Royal Pain in the Ass. Vomited all over my white carpets!” Zay shakes his head and adds a “Make yourself at home, and if you wanna clean up those white carpets, feel free, I mean, they are _yours_ now,” and then he’s out the door. Always leaving, that kid.

 

Riley starts to walk down the hallway, beaming as per usual, and then as if it suddenly hits her, “Maya, you _live_ here.”

 

“Unfortunately.”

 

“Unfortunately _my ass_! Look at this place!”

 

And she’d be lying if she said she wasn’t. She was definitely looking at this place and she’d definitely never get sick (too soon?) of looking at it. It was as breathtaking as the offices she’s worked at. Crisp white floors, an enormous kitchen, a fridge you could fit her whole dorm into, not one, but 3 couches in the living room, awards on shelves as if they’re flower pots, a sleek black dining room table, a grand staircase. God only knows what happens when you go up there.

 

They’re standing in the kitchen now, trading Fuckboy Friar impressions again, doubled over in laughter and helping themselves to a bag of chips and a bottle of water because does she have to keep saying that this is hers and she can do whatever she wants with this stuff and if Friar has a problem with that—

 

“How the fuck did you get in here?”

 

Maya and Riley’s laughter stops short when a deep voice (that sounds nothing like the one Maya was attempting but hey, she tried) cuts into the room. Standing just under the entrance to the kitchen holding up a pillow in front of his face. But she knows who it is. Who else could it be?

 

“Excuse me?!” Maya shrieks back, stepping closer to the pillow.

 

“You’re from that writing place, aren’t you? I recognize one of you from the front desk. You offered me like 12 different mints.” Riley blushes (“I was only trying to make small talk?”) “Look, I don’t know how you got in here, who you paid, or even who you laid, but I’m really not in the mood to fight off reporters right now so can we postpone?”

 

“We didn’t have to do anything to get in here. Granted, your front door is a nightmare and we had to sit outside for at least an hour because there was no doorbell and you didn’t hear us knock, but luckily, you’re sick, and Zay was headed out for you, so he let us in.”

 

“Well, I don’t have a doorbell, for that exact reason, to keep people like you out. But obviously, Zay seemed to forget that,” Lucas starts to say. “I won’t kick you out just yet if you promise no pictures.”

 

“Oh, how kind,” Maya shoots a glance at Riley, who is loving this, “Fine, no pictures. I had no desire to anyway.” Maya shrugs and Lucas starts to walk closer, slowly bringing the pillow down from in front of his face and then—

 

“You!”

 

“Me!”

 

“You! You’re the one that threw up on me!” He screams and backs away, using the pillow as shield once again. “What is this, some twisted form of an apology? You’re gonna write some freak article like that other magazine place?”

 

“See, Maya, I told you he’d remember you!” Riley beams and Maya rolls her eyes.

 

“Look, dude, I’ll apologize for the article—”

 

“ _You_ wrote that?” Maya nods, smugly. “God, you’re like my worst nightmare!”

 

“Oh wait, it gets better.” Maya laughs and then continues, “The article was a shitty move by me, on all accounts for everyone involved, not just your inflated ego took a blow with that. But the throw up, I can’t apologize for, because honestly, it was not my intention whatsoever, I can’t believe you would even think I’d _try_ to do that or _want_ to, and also you were flat out rude to me about it. If anything, you should be apologizing to me. Or at least thanking me, for getting you out of a full day at that office so instead you could come back here and screw with some models.”

 

“Wait you saw that?”

 

“She thought we were gonna have a threesome.”

 

“Look, we all know my history with women, but there is not a chance in the world that I’d ever do it with you. You could be the last woman left on this earth.”

 

“I’m touched, really,” Maya rests a hand to her heart sarcastically, then says, “And the feeling is mutual. You’re a disgusting pig with no self control or respect for others.”

 

“Wow, tell us how you really feel!”

 

“There are not enough hours in the day to get me started on that.”

 

“What the—”

 

“I may not be doing an article on you right now, but I’m still a writer. I know things about you that will never be published, thanks to your brilliant management team and Zay who have stopped me from publishing the rest in the string of articles that publicly humiliate you even more than you’re already doing yourself.” Things are escalating quickly, but Maya can’t help herself. His self-righteous and quite frankly asshole-ish attitude is pissing her off, she’s angry and she’s gonna let him know that.

 

“You wouldn’t.”

 

“One more degrading remark from you and I will.”

 

“You’re ridiculous, first you get me sick, now you’ve intruded and come into my house just to yell at me!”

 

“I’m not intruding, you asshole, if you had ever bothered to care about what’s going on in your life you’d know that.”

 

“You have no right to say something like that to me. You know nothing about me!”

 

“The articles, remember?” Maya lifts and eyebrow, and Lucas only screams louder.

 

“You don’t know the first thing about what’s going on in my life.”

 

“Neither do you, apparently. Because I know of at least 10 other people who care about your well-being more than you do, enough to dedicate their lives to it, and how do you repay them? By fucking some random girl literally hours after they worked so hard to get your reputation back on track!”

 

“I didn’t sleep with that girl, she was turned off by the throw up, thanks to _you_.”

 

“That’s the least of our problems now!”

 

“You are literally the most annoying person I have ever met.”

 

“Really, that’s all you got?”

 

“I don’t have a very large vocabulary but I think this about does it. You’re like a mosquito. I have yet to see you coming but once you do, god, you are in full effect. Puking all over me, eating my food, insulting every part of my life, screaming and yelling and god, it’s so annoying! You’re so small and your voice is squeaky and you’re not even trying to look attractive.”

 

“No, we’re not going down this road, because if we did, I wouldn’t be able to stop. And for the record, for someone who repeatedly wins hottie of the year you look like complete garbage right now, absolute crap.”

 

“Well, who do we have to thank for that?”

 

“Could you _stop_ being such a dick for _one second_ so that I don’t feel like jumping out a window when I say what I have to say next?”

 

“Depends on what you have to say.”

 

“Ah, I see the love birds have met.” Zay stops the yelling match for a brief second, walking into the kitchen and placing a bag on the counter, shaking his head. “This should be fun. At this rate, we ain’t ever making it down the aisle.”

 

“What do you mean?” Lucas questions, nervously. Maya looks like she’s going to pass out and Riley is thoroughly enjoying the show. She doesn’t get out much.

 

“You didn’t tell him yet?” Zay squeaks and Maya shakes her head. “Well, then what the hell were y’all yellin’ about?”

 

“I was about to share that piece of delightful news, but your friend here has a big mouth and started going at me. Mosquito…” Maya spits out, rolling here eyes at Lucas.

 

“This was not me. She started attacking me first! Someone’s gotta tell me why she’s here, or I’m moving out.”

 

“Sounds delightful! Great idea,” Maya claps her hands and Riley offers to move in in his place.

 

“Everyone, shut up!” Zay screams, and everyone turns to look at him, “Lucas, we talked about this. You’re a mess right now, buddy, and your team and I have been working to fix that so you could get that role in the movie. To do so, we’ll have to go to some extremes, most of which involve the very generous help of Maya here.”

 

“How is she going to help me? She hates me, and I can’t stand her, and I bet there is nothing in her power she could do to fix this, even if she wanted to.”

 

“That, my good friend, is where you are wrong,” Zay puts an arm around Lucas and Maya each, “You are gonna marry her.”

 

Lucas is speechless, his mouth hangs open and he gapes at Maya.

 

“I know you said no pictures, but I think you should go against your own rule, take a picture, it’ll last longer.” Maya smirks and uses her free hand to close his mouth.

 

“There’s no way. No, we can’t.”

 

“But we will, Friar. Because you need my help desperately and I need a job.”

 

“This is going to be so much fun. And yes, of course, I’ll be your best man.” Zay smiles and squeezes the two of them in for a sideways hug. “This is the beginning, of a beautiful friendship.”

 

“I have a few choice words I’d use instead.”

 

“C’mon, let’s start this shindig over.” Zay claps his hands and separates so that Lucas and Maya are standing face-to-face.

 

“I’m Maya Hart, nice to meet you.” She holds her hand out with a challenging twinkle I  her eyes and a lopsided grin.

 

“She knows who I am already,” Lucas whines to Zay, but one look from him and Lucas snaps back to Maya and sighs before saying, “I’m Lucas Friar, the pleasure is all mine,” and he shakes her hand.

 

“Oh, that was just lovely! I’ll be the flower girl!” Riley says and hops up from her seat. “Wanna go unpack the car with me, Maya?” And Maya bolts out the door.

 

Once everything is inside her gigantic room (it’s literally the size of every dorm in her hallway combined) Maya and Riley flop onto the soft cushy sheets of the bed, exhausted.

 

Maya looks over at Riley, “I think I’m going to have to take you up on that offer from before.”

 

Riley’s eyes twinkle, “Right now?”

 

“This bed looks amazing to make out on. Can’t pass up the opportunity.”

 

Riley laughs and walks towards the door, “I’ll see you tomorrow, bright and early. I’m picking you up at 7:30 sharp. We have a meeting at 8 and I don’t want to be fired on the second day.”

 

“So that’s a no on making out?”

 

“Goodnight, Maya.”

 

“Night, Riles.”

 

Riley peeks her head back in, and after a second she smiles and adds, “I promise it’ll get better.”

 

“I hope you’re right.”

 

“I have been so far.” And with one last smile, Riley shuts the light and closes the door.

 

Maya falls asleep. Home, sweet home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for all the love so far! i have so many ideas (feel free to share any you have too!) and i can't wait to write more. You guys are the best!! --katie


	3. no feelings attached

* * *

“So how long until I can squeeze you?”

 

“You mean, _hug_ me?”

 

“Is that what they call it? Sounds sentimental.”

 

“Feelings are nice, Is, you should try them out.”

 

“I catch enough overflow just being your friend. Speaking of, why don’t you be my friend and visit me at the dorm so I can squeeze and hug you.”

 

Maya laughs at her friend on the phone as she jumps onto the plush white couch, which remains the last place she wants to be at any given moment, no matter how freaking comfortable it is. “Sorry, dude. I’m stuck here.”

 

“That’s not right.”

 

“Swear to god, I have 25 pages of rules for this week alone. They script everything but my breathing.”

 

“Break a rule! Come visit me!”

 

It’s breaking Maya’s heart but she can’t break the rules. The plan is worked down to a science, and if all goes according to plan (she can _see_ Jenny’s icy cold eyes she shot at her, as if everything that could go wrong starts and ends with her) everything will be fine. Sneaking out of the house you’re supposed to be watching a romantic movie with your fiancé in to instead eat easy-mac on the floor of a college dorm room is not a part of the plan, and therefore, is not fine.

 

She takes a deep breath before continuing, “Look, _nothing_ in this world would make me happier at this exact moment than to hug and squeeze you, but unfortunately it’s not my happiness we’re looking out for here.”

 

“That fuckboy doesn’t deserve your beautiful self.”

 

“I take it back. Who needs feelings, right?”

 

“That’s the only reason I can sleep with you so far away at night. You say Fuckboy, I say, _fuck feelings_ ,” Maya laughs, saying goodbye to her favorite roommate and throwing her head back on the couch thinking about her _least_ favorite roommate.

 

She has a massive headache and if this couch got any comfier she knows she wouldn’t be able to keep her eyes open because last night was a fun night for Mr. Friar, apparently, because she could hear it through the wall, (who has money for a mansion but not thick enough walls?) and disturbed with images she never wanted to see in her life when she later walked into the bathroom, there was no shot at sleep.

 

Maya lived by the rulebook, Lucas lived by anything _but_ the rulebook.

 

There were the big ones, and then there were the implied ones. Maya seemed to think sneaking a new girl into your shower was implied, but god help him and his dwindling number of brain cells. We can’t all be so lucky, huh?

 

Riley and Zay were flirting in the kitchen it was honestly disgusting, Maya was surrounded by love and happiness and she hated it. The only love and happiness she wanted right now was some shut eye and that fuzzy red blanket she stole from Lucas’s room one day when she was cleaning up after him.

 

She spent most of her days in this house, never allowed out, very few other people allowed in. So she busied herself with house duties, like a regular old housewife. She wasted away the time sweeping and ironing and dusting and she had gotten good at baking cookies and all Riley had gotten good at was flirting with Zay.

 

We can’t all be so lucky, huh?

 

If her mindless task allowed it, she’d keep her phone glued to her, talking to Farkle and Isadora and dreaming about ways to make this thing that was supposed to be good in her life actually feel good.

 

She had been up and down this house so many times in the past 3 weeks, she knew it inside-out and backwards, down to every last crevice, and for all her time here she had not once come into contact with Mr. Boyfriend.

 

Riley was present more than him, and she didn’t even live there. Jennifer would have Maya and Lucas go out one afternoon, walk down a street here and there so paparazzi would get some pictures, he’d hand her a cup of coffee, she’d laugh, bat her eyelashes. The worst was hand-holding. She had really sweaty hands. No, it wasn’t him, Mr. Perfect, of course, it was her and she knew it and it was really freaking uncomfortable. But they’d do it, talking to Zay and Riley respectively through earpieces so they wouldn’t have to actually talk to each other and it would still look like they were, and then they’d rush home without saying a word, ignoring everything about each other, even the metastasizing hatred mixed with curiosity and then in the door they went and Riley was sitting at the kitchen counter, drinking tea with the girl Lucas would promptly whisk upstairs and Maya wouldn’t see him again until she tried to use the shower or had to go on another date.

 

Frankly, it was toxic and gross and despicable and fucking insane. But if he wanted to do girls, god bless him. He gets caught, it’s his problem not hers. She already got paid for the week.

 

There was not a word between them since they met and though it sounds had to believe, it really happened.

 

It bothered her a little that there was not an ounce of interaction. She hated his guts with all of her being but he’s a _person_ and they should act like _people_ to each other. But they weren’t. And this wasn’t some sappy rom-com, as much as Riley like to tell her it was. We can’t all be so lucky, huh?

 

She had just finished washing the dishes when she plopped down onto the couch with an exasperated sigh and longing for the comforts of _Worst Cooks in America_. Riley proceeded to plop down next to her.

 

“What’s wrong, my love? You’ve got the sad eyes on today.” Riley glanced over at the blonde, who hung her head so her mop-like hair covered her face.

 

“You can’t see my eyes.” She pouted.

 

Riley ducked her head under so she could touch Maya’s nose with her nose and with that twinkle in her eyes she said, “I’ve spent close to every waking second of the past 3 weeks of my life attached to you. I see you even when I don’t want to. So _spill_ , puppy eyes.”

 

Maya looks up at her friend, hair back in place and sitting upright, and says, “Well if you really wanna know… You rejected me a few weeks ago when I asked to make out and not even a day later you went all googly-eyes for my sworn enemy’s best friend. I was not given a proper healing window.” The right corner of her mouth inches up a little and Riley openly laughs, her face lit up and sparkling and suddenly snuggled into Maya’s chest. She was only half serious but she loved this ball of sunshine a whole lot.

 

The boy, on the other hand.

 

“Riles, I thought I could do this but it’s really freaking hard. I mean, it sounds easy enough, with this lavish lifestyle I’ve gotten _handed_ to me. It’s any girl’s dream job. But I miss my friends, and my own bed and being able to throw on any stupid outfit that I want and to run into some crappy diner at 3 am just because I want a grease-pit stomach feeling and to actually _talk_ to a guy that doesn’t have his tongue shoved down another girl’s throat. It’s so _hard.”_

 

“Shhh, shh. We don’t have to talk about him right now. Your sad eyes are about to turn into cry eyes and I don’t like when that happens, because you cry, I cry.”

 

“You literally asked for it.” Maya laughs as she wipes a tear off her cheek with the oversized sweatshirt she didn’t think Lucas would miss and that Jennifer’s asshole army strictly prohibited she wear.

 

“Yeah, I know. But Nothing I say is going to change it, nothing you say is going to change it. Feelings suck, that’s the bottom line. You’ll get through it because you’re the most amazing girl I’ve ever met but we’ll probably end up like this most nights so you can get all of it out.”

 

“I don’t deserve this.”

 

“Of course you don’t. He’s a disgusting person and I feel bad for anyone who ends up with him in the long run. Good news is, you only have to tolerate it, and then you can marry anyone you want.”

 

“Thanks, but I really meant I don’t deserve _you._ ”

 

Riley laughs, “Only 14 months until you can marry me.”

 

“Pick a side, woman. Me or Zay!”

 

“You, in a heartbeat. … But is it okay if I kiss him periodically?”

 

Maya sits up and points to the door. “Go.”

 

“Go where?”

 

“I know you broke up with that scumbag of a boyfriend last week because Zay subtly asked you to get dinner but you felt bad and now you’re free and clear and the two of you are sitting in here babysitting me because you think I’m going to try to jump out the window again when you really should be making out in the back booth of a sketchy diner. So, go.”

 

“No windows?”

 

“None. I’m gonna stick around for a while. You’ll be over him in 14 months, right?”

 

“As long as you’re over yours.”

 

“Yeah, me and the girl he’s currently screwing in my bedroom right now.”

 

“Yours?”

 

“Told you my bed was great to make out on.”

 

“14 months. I love you!” Riley screams and runs out the door, giddy and sparkling.

 

We can’t all be so lucky, huh?

 

Maya flips on the TV, absently thumbing through channels until she finds something to settle on, drifting in and out of sleep as the hours drag on. It’s dark out when she hears a piercing scream and loud footsteps tumbling down the staircase.

 

“Shit, I’m so over it.” She mumbles under her breath as she gets up form the couch and tiptoes into the kitchen. She peaks around the corner to make sure everyone is clothed, and while very haphazardly, there are things on both of their bodies, so she deems it safe enough to walk around and she sees a young girl, younger than herself, trying to unlock the door, her whole body shaking.

 

“What did you do to her??!” Maya’s mom-friend instincts hitting over-drive when she sees the girl wracked in sobs on the floor, the fuckboy just standing there, slightly paler than usual.

 

“I didn’t do anything!” He screams, “I mean, I _did_ her, but there was no problem.”

 

“Okay, first of all, doing her is _exactly_ where the problem lies.” Maya brushes her fingers through the girl’s hair and feels her breathing slightly slow. “And it’s not her fault. No, this is you. I doubt she came to you for whatever the fuck this was, _you_ most certainly led her on, brought her here, fucked her, then told her you were about to be engaged to this ugly blonde downstairs and sent her flying out. Am I right?”

 

“Pretty fucking close.”

 

“At least we agree on that.” Maya hums to the girl, counting to three forwards and backwards until she can to it too, deep breaths in and out, in and out, girlfriend.  Maya lifts the girl’s chin and looks her in the eyes, “Now tell me where the big scary man hurt you and I’ll kick him in the balls. Repeatedly. No matter where you point I’ll kick him, you got me?”

 

“No, it’s fine, I mean other than my initial panic that he didn’t use a condom, this wasn’t a problem.”

 

Simultaneously the other two people in the room shout, “See, I _told_ you!” and “WHAT THE FUCK, YOU IDIOT!”

 

“I’ll be fine, you’ll be fine, we’ll all be fine with that no matter what. That’s the least of my problems. It’s that… someone must have seen me sneak in, or someone tipped off the press and now the paparazzi swarmed your house and my agent fired me, if that’s even what you call it, and my whole life is _over!”_ She sobs again, quickly, and lunges back into Maya’s embrace.

 

Maya shoots Lucas a lethal glare, still not over the condom thing, because all he had to do was ask and she knows where Zay stores extras from all her cleaning, but like the poor girl said, that’s the least of their issues right now. Maya can hear the cameras clicking away outside. They certainly waste no time.

 

“What’s your name, hun?”

 

“Vanessa.”

 

“Okay, Vanessa, this is going to be easy. Easy peasy. I’ve done so much worse. Snuck out of a college professor’s house once and I’m still in college. So you’re going to sneak out of this house and still be the beautiful girl that you are. You got me?”

 

“How?”

 

“Yeah, blondie, how you plan on doing that?” Lucas scoffs, “If you haven’t noticed we’re surrounded on all sides and Jennifer with serve our heads for dinner if we let this thing slip.”  
  
“The only reason I’m not slapping you right now is because I don’t need anyone out there to hear you scream. And the only reason I’m saving your ass right now if for Vanessa. So shut up, and go away.”

 

Lucas throws his hands up and stumbles out of the room.

 

“Okay, Vanessa, I work for Black Diamond Media. It’s a publication company. We don’t have to worry about any stories they’ll publish because all I have to do is call them, and all of that will be fixed. Actually…” Maya pulls out her and texts Riley. She’s sorry for ruining her date but this would be quick. All she had to do was call the Assholes on the third floor. “…It’s already done. But what we have to do now is only give them pictures to go with it. Which way did you come in?”

 

“The side door.”

 

“Perfect. That’s where we’ll exit. I’ll wait at the door, we’ll chit chat for a hot second like bffs, hug and I’ll wave you out, this way it looks like you were coming to visit me. Like we were hanging out. Good?”

 

“That’ll work?”

 

“It’s already working. Look,” Maya pulls up an article someone sent over to her to approve, make sure the story’s right. “We have all our bases covered, just in case anything ever happens. Your agent will take you back, you’ll keep all your gigs and publicity, the only thing you might have to do is hang out with me.” Maya laughs and so does Vanessa.  


“You’re really amazing, Maya. No wonder Lucas loves you.”

 

“Did he say that?” Maya’s voice reaches an unnaturally squeaky pitch, “Just asking…for a friend.”

 

She laughs again, “No, it’s just the way he talked about you.”

 

Maya sighs because what the fuck was he saying about her, and then grabs Vanessa’s hand and walks toward the door. When they get to the side-door, she opens it swiftly, hugs Vanessa, whispers a “Come back soon, for real. You’re cool.” And waves as she walks down the grass, and into her car, all while effortlessly shoving away the cameras.

 

Maya waits a few more seconds to watch the car roll down the street, sees the paparazzi switch focus to her in the doorway, contemplates throwing them the middle finger, and then decides she should save it fir the mess that awaits inside.

 

She walks back in and comes face to face with the middle-finger-worthy man himself.

 

He’s sprawled across the couch, his head hanging off the bottom watching _Project Runway_ intently.

 

“It doesn’t matter how far down you go. You can see up the model’s skirts on a TV show,” She deadpans, plopping herself next to him on the couch.

 

“Some dresses look better this way. That’s what my sister says.” He shrugs, not moving.

 

“This is so wrong.” She shakes her head, tears starting to form again, just like before.

 

“I swear, blondie, try it, it’s—”

 

“Not the show, you idiot. _This._ This is the first actual conversation we have ever had in 3 weeks of spending every single day and night together and it’s because you got careless in fucking one of your girl-toys which is the most disgusting thing I have ever heard come out of my mouth, let alone the thought of you doing it. I had to help her get out of the house so her life wasn’t completely demolished all so your demolished life could have a pretty little sex bow tied on the top. Well I’m over it, dude, you’re careless and stupid and ignorant and I can’t stand you.”

 

“God, I almost liked you for a second, and now you’re yelling at me again.”

 

“How can I not, when you pull a stunt like this? I’m over it, Lucas, I really am,” she screams, openly crying now, “Because I have spent every waking moment of my life since I met you doing everything in my power to make sure you’re okay. You don’t realize it but your messed up life is affecting so many people, so many freaking people. All I do is sit in this house or sit on a park bench talking to a girl I’m more in love with than you, who I’m supposed to be dating. Everyone keeps telling me to fuck feelings, screw them, they’re pointless but god, I just have so fucking many of them. And almost all of them have to do with you. Did you know I clean this whole house every single day? I sort your papers, I do your laundry, I cook you food, I check your mail and email and make you lunches to bring to work and I pick out clothes for you and makes sure your shoes are tied and you think all this stuff is from _your people_ , these mysterious ‘people’ who supposedly care about you so much that they spend their lives trying to fix you but the truth is it’s all me. And you never know! Because we don’t speak. We don’t exist to each other. I don’t like you. But I care about you. Because my past is pretty shitty too and no one deserves that so I don’t like you but I care about you and this needs to stop. I don’t know a thing about you! I didn’t know you had a sister that watches Project Runway! I don’t know your middle name or your favorite sports team or how you like your coffee or why you look at Zay like he’s the sun or how terrible you are at math or the year you took your worst yearbook picture or the color of your eyes. I really don’t like you but I care about you and I don’t need you to care about me to but you need to acknowledge that I am a part of your life now, whether you like it or not. I’m getting paid to be here, and I follow the rules, all of them, but I know how to bend them. This thing with girls, it needs to stop. This pretending will work out fine, but once it’s over, you’ll crumble again, so you need to get your act together, for real. You’re falling apart. I clean up beer bottles every single day and that’s not healthy. All these girls go through pregnancy scares and that’s not healthy. You have bags under your eyes like I’ve never seen and that’s not healthy. You don’t talk to me, and that’s not healthy. Let me help you fix this. Whatever this is. I don’t know where it comes from or why and frankly I don’t ever need to know. But it’s my duty as your fake-girlfriend and as a person who just cares a whole freaking lot to make sure that you’re okay.”

 

He sits up.

 

She sniffles.

 

“My sister is only 5 and I really think you’d like her. I have a brother too. He’s seven. My middle name is Joseph and I like baseball, the Yankees. I hate coffee but tea is great. Zay is the only thing on this planet that makes me happy. I never graduated high school. My mom cut my hair in second grade and the yearbook is picture evidence.” He says it all looking down, playing with the edge of the couch.

 

“You didn’t tell me the color of your eyes.”

 

“You tell me.”

 

And that instant, she knows she doesn’t like him but she falls in love with his eyes.

 

“Green.”

 

“Blue.”

 

“We’d make a pretty ocean.”

 

He looks at her hands, almost like he wants to hold them, and Maya’s afraid she might want to too, uncomfortable as hell but she really wants to right now.

 

“I just found it hard to believe that you would really give up everything to make my life better. And I was uncomfortable with that idea. I’m a shitty person.”

 

“Shitty people stick together.”

 

“You don’t know the half of my messed up life. I don’t think you want to.”

 

“Legally, I have to. Signed a contract.” She cracks a smile. He doesn’t. “But, when I’m in, _I’m in_. We’re going to do this the right way. We don’t have to be friends, but we need to be people to each other. I’ll make you lunches and you’ll memorize my ice cream order so when we go on that date you don’t need Zay to whisper it into your ear.”

 

“Okay.”

 

“There are rules we need to follow. I’ve made myself familiar with them. You haven’t. Get on that. It starts with being _careful_ with girls, I can’t make you stop but I can’t have what happened tonight keep happening. No drinking unless it’s at a dinner or a party or we want to drown our shitty sorrows over a quick episode of _Project Runway_. No drugs, I don’t mess with that shit, and no staying up all night and showing up to our events with bags under your eyes. You deserve normal relationships with girls, a healthy body, and sleep. I deserve all of that in return.”

 

“Okay.”

 

He looks okay, he’s certainly said it enough. She’s never seen him like this, she knows it will be back in the morning, that cocky attitude that she’s used to, but at least she’s struck a cord somewhere. And while she has him down, she night as well…

 

“Got it all, Huckleberry?”

 

“What?”

 

“Ranger Rick, Hopalong, Sundance, c’mon, you’re such a freaking cowboy! Didn’t have to tell me that piece of history to figure it out.”

 

“I am not!”

 

“Yes you are, Texas boy!”

 

“Those don’t even make sense!” He laughs, his green eyes a little brighter.

 

“I’ve been _dying_ to call you Huckleberry for weeks. I mean, look at you.”

 

“I’ve never heard of that before, and I lived in Texas,” he shakes his head, “Why didn’t you come up with some normal cowboy name, like I don’t know, ‘Woody’?”

 

Maya’s grin on her face couldn’t get any wider, “Like _Toy Story_??! Woody! Oh my god, you’re insane.”

 

“Everyone knows he’s the rootin’est tootin’est cowboy in the wild west! If you’re gonna call me a cowboy, do it properly!”

 

Maya is overcome with a fit of giggles, laugh so hard there are tears, because it’s not everyday you see the sexiest man alive say “rootin’est tootin’est” and how can you not collapse with laughter.

 

Lucas’s stomach growls loudly and Maya only giggles more.

 

“Time to russle up some grub, partner.”

 

She rolls her eyes. “We’ve got nothing in the kitchen. I checked before and demolished the only bag of chips we had left.”

 

“Great. And now we’re stuck here until tomorrow morning.”

 

“Who says?”

 

“Um, _your_ rules, shortstack.”

 

She rolls her eyes again. “Screw the rules.” She sees his eyes twinkle and she adds, “Just this once. For the sake of food.”

 

She grabs his hand, uncomfortable and beautiful all at once, and runs to the door.

 

“No feelings attached but I really wanna be in love with you right now so that I can fulfill my lifelong sappy dream of going to a diner with the love of my life at 4 in the morning and we share a huge plate of pancakes and play footsie under the table as we watch the sunrise.”

 

“No feelings attached, but anything for pancakes.” And she hears his silent _and for you._

 

They make it to a diner and slip into a booth quietly, away from cameras and earpieces and lists from Jenny. It’s just the two of them and a cup of coffee and a cup of tea and squeaky plastic seats and kicking feet under the table and 20 questions. They talk for hours, the sweatshirt she didn’t think he’d miss collecting the syrup she wipes off his mouth because he’s basically a child, their cups refilled again and again, no one to disturb their little bubble. It’s good. They’re people.

 

Riley calls, worried sick, at 6 am and Maya tolerates her nagging questions for a little but then she feels a hand grab the one she’s got resting on the table and when she follows the hand to it’s big green eyes she sees the cowboy pointing out the window and look at that, the sun is rising.

 

No feelings attached or anything, but Maya is in love with this feeling.

 

“Jennifer’s gonna flip if I’m not at that meeting on time. And I need to shower. Race you home?”

 

She laughs and downs her last cup of coffee and decides to screw the no feelings rule. All these rules were bound to be broken eventually.


	4. you go, i go

 “The world doesn’t revolve around you.”

 

“ _Yours_ does.”

 

“I’m _this_ close to punching you in a place you don’t wanna be punched.”

 

“How romantic.”

 

“Just like our date last night—oh wait!” Maya stomps down the hallway of Black Diamond Media’s third floor, trying to ignore her asshole of a boyfriend behind her.

 

“That’s not fair. You said you didn’t want to go out anyway. You were exhausted from one of your classes. I was actually being considerate!”

 

“To me, or your penis?”

 

“Good morning, my two favorite people in the whole wide world!” Zay grabs each of them by the hand and pulls them into the red room at the end of the hallway. “Seems like we are all in great spirits today.” Maya’s eyes could not roll farther back into her head. Lucas seems to reciprocate. “Why don’t you tell Dr. Zay what the problem is before Jenny finds out and you have to play along with one of her ridiculous coping schemes. Spill.”

 

“Nothing’s wrong here, isn’t that right, Huckleberry?” Maya grits her teeth and pulls a sweet smile as she looks up at him.

 

“Maya’s all bent out of shape because I had a girl over last night.”

 

“I said _nothing was wrong_.”

 

“You were _just_ screaming at me out in the hallway. Make up your mind! You complained about us not going on a date last night, and now tonight when I wanna go on one, you flat out refuse!”

 

“Just drop it, cowboy.”

 

“Call me by my real name, and maybe I will.”

 

“Alright, shut up!” Zay yells and takes a step to stand in between the two of them. “Maya, you have to stop pretending nothing’s wrong. It’s obviously something, and we’re not going to get anywhere if you don’t tell us.” Maya nervously sways back and forth and sighs.

 

“If you don’t want to tell me, at least tell Zay.” Lucas says and starts to head out the door. Maya opens her mouth to object before her continues, “Please. You’re my ticket in here. So figure it out, please.”

 

The door clicks shut and Maya’s left with a twisted up heart and Zay’s outstretched arms.

 

“I’m not going to cry again. This is dumb.”

 

“Whatever you say, sweetheart.”

 

And maybe she does. She’ll never tell you. But some people notice the stain on Zay’s shirt when they leave the office later. And honestly, she’s cried too much in the past three months for anyone to be bothered by it anymore. She doesn’t mind.

 

Except.

 

“I just came in to drop off the last article I wrote. He followed. I’m sorry you had to deal with us.” Maya grabs her bag and starts towards the elevator with Zay.

 

“It’s my job to deal with you two.”

 

“How lucky we got with our jobs, huh?” Maya says as she eyes her “job” sitting on the floor by the elevator, asleep on a pile of magazines.

 

“You can say that again, sister.”

 

When she gets home, she tries to convince herself that there’s no problem again. She really does. Because she’s a pusher, which includes pushing shit _down_ too. And she’s been hiding problems her whole life, the current one no exception.

 

It started a few weeks ago. She was sitting in a college lecture hall, hiding in the front corner seat, closest to the door so she could run in last minute and leave first thing. She was starting to get published everywhere with Mr. Bad Boy. And people noticed. She hated people coming up to her for gossip, for fake friendships, for a chance to trash talk her to her face instead of behind a tweet, which she had to admit was ballsy. She hated the attention it got her here. School was the worst. Sometimes out in the regular public she could hide, maneuver her way in and out unscathed, but here, kids were everywhere, and they all knew. She could get lucky to be stopped at a crosswalk on her way to work with a man in his forties who had no idea who Lucas Friar and his newest girl were, but college classes proved no such luck. Everyone knew. And they wanted in.

 

A girl on crutches came into the class ten minutes in and since she couldn’t make it to any other seat, needed to take Maya’s. (Ugh.) So Maya made the long and shameful walk to the other side of the room, hearing whispers or maybe just imagining them and trying very hard not to. She found it hard to focus on the rest of the lecture, in and out of thinking about the dress the Asshole Army had picked out for her for the night and then laughing at Lucas’s chocolate chip cookies he had tried to bake the other day when the aforementioned Assholes put them on lockdown until his toxic ex had left LA. Things had been better since their diner date breakthrough, but not totally. That guy is a complete mess, there’s no way to sugarcoat it. She’s helping him fix parts of it but he’s still his same ego-centric, asshole-ish self. Dates and outings were bearable yes, but there were still girls and bad decisions and the idea that the world revolved around him. They aren’t best buds, but they’re working on it. She didn’t mind getting dragged to some dumb dinner with all these fancy people because a) the Asshole Army made her look hot as hell and b) she loved playing rich person for a day and c) every ounce of control it took to not kill him during it was always worth it for the car ride home when he’d mock those snotty rich people over a bottle of champagne in the limo and have her laughing until the world blurred.

 

She liked spending time with Lucas and Zay and Riley and occasionally Jenny had her moments and Isadora and Farkle were always just a phone call away and she liked wearing pretty dresses and she liked not having to worry about how much the groceries cost and she liked writing but she _hated_ more than anything in this world the feeling of being “famous”. Because she could always hear the jerks behind her in class making some disgusting comment about how her ass looked on the cover of that magazine one day or when the bitchy girls from that bitchy sorority called her foul names and spit at her if she even walked by their house. Worse than flat out hatred was secret envy, the people who’d pretend to be her friend for the long walk to her class, only to be asking for an invite to the next movie premiere right before they sat down, followed by an icy whisper and vicious rumors spread the minute she told them no.

 

Maya could deal with the spotlight. Just not alone.

 

Class ended before she had a chance to work up the courage to slap the guy behind her and as she was walking out the professor stopped her.

 

“Maya, can I talk to you for a second.”

 

_Oh, shit._

 

“Hey, Professor, how are you?” She says, stumbling up to the desk at the front of the room, gathering her stuff, watching the lingering students try to listen in before running out to spread more falsities.

 

“I should be asking you that.”

 

Maya lifts the corner of her mouth in a half-hearted smile.

 

The professor continues, “People can be cruel, Miss Hart, I see it. I wish I didn’t, but I do.”

 

“I’m sorry.”

 

“Why are you apologizing?! I had to ask my daughter how to use the internet on my phone to catch up with everything, but other than helping me become the family laughing stock for being so out of date, there is nothing for you to apologize for when you’re happy.”

 

Maya plays with the straps of her bag and looks down. _Happy?_

 

“I know things have been hectic and it’s a lot for you to deal with on your own. So…” the professor pulls out a paper from the drawer of his desk and hands it to Maya.

 

“Senior Art Show? Professor, the deadline was weeks ago, I—”

 

“ _Weeks ago_ you were stranded in a sea of people trying to tear your happiness away for a quick buck. I’m sure this was the last thing on your mind, when under any other circumstance it would have been.”

 

Senior Art Show was something Maya had looked forward too since her freshman orientation. She visited every year, gaping at the beautiful work of the best of the best. The people showcased went on to be world-renowned. It became more than just an art show. People flooded in to see the work—paintings, photographs, sculptures, dresses, poems, sketches, videos, songs, dances, words, voices, anything you could imagine up was showcased. It was held on campus each year, and as big as it grew to be, it still only housed the work of seniors. It was a staple of the college, a rite of passage for each student, all hoping to one day be apart of it.

 

Maya wanted to be a writer, no doubt, but her heart had always held a little spot for painting. It served as a great stress-reliever for her growing up, and she had gotten good at it. Coupled with some of the things she wrote, Maya became abundantly proud of her artwork, and looked forward to getting a spot in that Senior Show. And then.

 

So when she looked at the letter her professor had just given her, she couldn’t believe it. This couldn’t be happening. She missed it. And then.

 

“You’ve got a full wall. It’s all written in there. Go crazy, kiddo. The genius kind of crazy I know you are.” He smiled, and Maya smiled too, big and bright and genuine.

 

The weeks had gone by and Maya drowned herself in working out what paintings to use and how to arrange her stuff on “her wall” and made time to write articles for work and essays for classes and shopping lists for Riley because Maya was finding it hard to find a moment to breathe, let alone grocery shop.

 

And today was the day. The night of the big Senior Art Show and her stuff was placed and hung and this was it and her fucking _boyfriend_ wanted her to chaperone him at a wild Hollywood rager.

 

She had gushed about it as soon as she got home from classes that day and Lucas had been sitting at the counter, absently nodding in agreement, he even asked what kind of stuff she painted, threw in a snarky comment here or there, so _she knows_ he was listening. Had to be. But apparently washed-up teen star brains can only hold information for a few hours because it has only been a few days since Maya last gushed and here he was, literally acting like nothing was happening. This was _her_ night.

 

The morning had started like this: “Wake up, cowboy. We’ve got a big day ahead of us, and I’m making some big pancakes to go with it.” She peeked her head into his room and watched him pull the sheets up over his head in hiding. “Moan all you want, Huckleberry. We are officially a packaged deal. That means my early mornings are yours too. Hurry if you want a pancake. Riley can easily devour half her body weight in syrup alone.”

 

He grumbled, but followed her downstairs, playing with the ends of her hair that stuck up from not being brushed yet. He sat at a stool next to Riley, swiftly grabbing the plate from her and dropping a pancake Maya would easily have cut up into 10 pieces into his mouth all at once.

 

“Boys are gross. Remind me why we like them again?” Riley said, taking her pancakes back.

 

“Speak for yourself, Riles.”

 

“You don’t _love_ this, shortstack?” Lucas asked, a twinkle in his eyes and chewed up pancakes crumbs slipping out the corner of his mouth.

 

“Don’t talk with food in your mouth, first of all, gross, I’ve taught you better, and second, no, absolutely not. Especially when I have to see the food you’re eating. Not pleasant.”

 

“Well, I would love me if I were you, because guess where the true love of my life gets to go tonight?”

 

Riley seemed to genuinely consider an answer, Maya could only roll her eyes and flip another pancake.

 

“Humor me, Sundance, where will we be going tonight?” because she knows the answer, and he knows the answer, but she knows it will be funny to see what he calls it today.

 

“The Annual Beverly Hills Block Party!!!!” he cheers and echoes the sound of crowd in a stadium. Maya gapes. “It’s not actually on Beverly Hills. And it’s also not a block party. But it’s got a nice ring to it, right?”

 

“Are you kidding me?”

 

“Maya, the party is sick. I’ve been going for years. I mean, until they stopped me because I always got hammered and did something I’d later regret. But now I’ve got you! Jenny wouldn’t have let me go, but you’re wise and responsible. You’ll ‘keep me in line’.”

 

“Please tell me you’re not serious right now.”

 

“Packaged deal, right? You go, I go.”

 

“I can’t believe you right now,” Maya mutters under her breath and stomps upstairs, collects herself, and stomps again, this time out the door to get to work.

 

At first she thought it was a joke, but when he marched down to the office with her to ask Jenny if the two of them could go to a party tonight, she openly gaped at him. He really forgot? Or was he just choosing to neglect because it didn’t appeal to him? They’d gotten closer in the past few weeks but maybe an ounce of caring about something important to her was the stuff of real lovers. She’d thought that was genuine courtesy, friendship 101, but hey, Hollywood’s a different culture, huh?

 

They were back at home after a quick trip to Black Diamond where Maya dropped off some papers and picked some more up and Lucas convinced the management team that it was a good idea for them to party tonight.

 

Miraculously, they had agreed. Beverly Hills Block Party was legit and as long as Maya would be with him, there’d be no trouble. Package deal. But Lucas was going to have to be Jesus himself to get the same kind of miracle out of Maya.

 

“Tonight is going to be crazy. You have no idea what these parties are like. The place gets packed, and the DJ! And the lights and you’ll—”

 

“I don’t want to hear anything about where you’re going tonight.” Maya stands in her closet, contemplating for the third time this week what dress she should wear. She hasn’t had to make a decision like this in a very long time. She’ll have to bring some back-up and have Riley decide when they get there.

 

“You mean where _we’re_ going tonight.”

 

“No, just you, Lucas.”

 

“Oh shit, why are you using my name?” He bounced on her bed and edged toward the front of it, eyes wide, as she spun around.

 

And Maya opened her mouth to yell. She really was. But for months that’s all she’s been doing. He makes a bad decision, she yells why it’s wrong, he apologizes, pulls the pretty face, they end up watching movies on the couch. But Maya is _so fucking tired of yelling._ This is her night! The day she’s looked forward to for 4 years! Her artwork on display for hundreds of people. She didn’t have the energy to waste on yelling at him. She needed all her energy to panic just before the doors to the art show opened.

 

She she simply looked at him, icy cold eyes and an unforgiving smirk. If he wanted to go to that party, it wasn’t her problem anymore. Technically, she had given him an alternate, various times. She was giving him a reason not to go. If he couldn’t stop thinking about himself for one minute to realize that, well that was a problem she couldn’t fix.

 

“Do whatever you want. I won’t be there.”

 

“Maya, no! You have to come with me, that’s the only way—”

 

“For you to have a ‘crazy’ night?” Maya rolls her eyes. “I’ve fought with you enough on this today. You’re a big boy. If you’re getting as good as everyone says you are, you don’t need me.”

 

 _But I do._ That’s what she wanted to hear. And if she had turned around from her closet and seen his eyes soften and his hands fidget with the sheets beneath him as he whispered those three little words, hell, she would’ve missed her art show just to do anything he wanted.

 

But he didn’t. “Wow, thanks.” He drips sarcastically and moves out of the room in one swift step. And she can’t bring herself to care. She’d probably just yell at him if he came to the show anyway. But her heart feels unnaturally heavy for the greatest day of her life.

 

She has to be at the exhibit early, to make sure everything’s ready, also to get all her nerves out before people show up. She slips Riley in with her, after assuring Maya the outfit she picked was “okay wonderful beautiful exquisite perfect you’re the most beautiful girl in the world I love you” at least 27 times. Riley is already in awe of the artwork in every room, Maya has to drag her through and promise she can look at it all later.

 

When they finally come to a stop in front her her wall, Maya thinks there are tears in Riley’s eyes.

 

“Maya.”

 

“Not too bad, huh?”

 

Riley chuckles and pulls Maya in close.

 

“You think he’ll come?” Maya whispers, more to herself than Riley, but she still gets an answer.

 

“A hundred people are about to walk through that door to ooh and ahh at your masterpiece and you’re worried about one asshole?”

 

“You’re right, it’s dumb.” Maya shakes her head and steps closer to one of her paintings. Riley looks at it too and she gets it, it all clicks and she hates seeing Maya this sad. Over a boy!

 

“It’s not dumb at all. Not at all.” Riley hugs her from behind.

 

“It is. He’s a jerk and I shouldn’t care if he’s making out with some blonde floozy right now, puking his brains out before downing another drink and moving onto the next girl. He’s not really mine. It’s an act.”

 

“It’s a little more than that, and you know it.”

 

“I’ve got tons of people coming to see me. I won’t even know he’s missing.” Maya tries to convince herself.

 

A few moments later, someone yells that it’s time, the doors are open, and Maya shakes a little because for as much as she’s been telling herself all these people were going to see her artwork, it didn’t actually hit her until now. Real people. Her artwork. Crazy night.

 

The first person in the room charges at full speed toward Maya and picks her up and spins her around and squeezes her with every ounce of his scrawny little being.

 

And everything already feels a little better.

 

“Farkle!” Maya yells when he puts her down, taking his face in her hands, “God, I missed your face.”

 

“Missed yours more. Above sucks without you.”

 

“Black Diamond sucks without _you_.”

 

“Hey!” Riley shouts from the side.

 

“I mean, I’ve found a great replacement for you already, but, you know, she actually likes to work.” Maya laughs and hugs Farkle again.

 

“Well my replacement intern sucks.”

 

“I can’t believe they even gave you another intern.”

 

“No kidding. We’re basically under martial law now. After the incident, they’re not taking any chances. You have to get every single thing you do approved, jump through hoops just to go to the bathroom! Publishing is a nightmare. We can only do it on one computer. One! For the whole building! And this guy sits there and watches you the whole time you do it. It’s hell, Maya.”

 

“Why don’t you just come work for us?” Riley says. Farkle and Maya look at her for a few seconds with straight faces until they just can’t hold it in any longer, and burst into laughter.

 

“Riley, you obviously haven’t met Farkle. Riley this is Farkle, the world’s laziest worker on the planet, but also boy genius. We’re lucky if he attends a meeting once a month. Farkle this is Riley, the love of my life.”

 

“You sure about that, Mrs. Friar?” Farkle says to Maya before shaking Riley’s hand.

 

“I like you too much at this moment to kill you, but the next one, you’re a goner.”

 

Smackle comes in next, attacking Maya in a similar fashion, followed by Zay, and Maya’s heart feels so full.

 

“How did you even get approved to go to something like this. You know, with those evil people controlling your life?” Smackle says as she walks with Maya throughout the room.

 

“Said it was a college thing. They can’t keep me from stuff like that. I doubt they even remembered.”

 

“Speaking of, did someone forget? Or is he planning on making a grand entrance?”

 

Maya sighs, knowing exactly who she’s talking about. “More like no entrance at all.”

 

“What a jerk, I can’t believe you painted all that beautiful stuff about how in love with him you are—” Smackle starts to yell, but Maya slaps her hand over her mouth.

 

“Shut up, Is. I don’t need anyone coming up to me to talk about—”

 

And before it’s even out of her mouth, there’s a journalist and some paparazzi, interrogating Zay and Riley who are standing in front of her work.

 

This was her night. He’s not even here. How could he be ruining it?

 

She feels the tears, wouldn’t be a normal day if they didn’t come at least once, so she mutters some excuse to Smackle and rushes out the room, out all the rooms, weaving in and out of the crowd until she reaches the front doors and she’s running out just to get a little fresh air when she runs smack into someone’s body.

 

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry, I—” but the words stop when she looks up and sees two shining green eyes.

 

“You’re not going to throw up on me, now, are you? Because that seems to be how this works for us.”

 

“There’s a few things I plan on doing to you.”

 

“Not in public!” He whispers seductively, wrapping a hand around her waist and trying to move inside, but Maya has other plans. She moves them outside, somewhere by themselves and hopefully out of earshot so she can yell if she has to.

 

“What the fuck are you doing here?”

 

“Packaged deal, remember? You go, I go.”

 

“I thought you were going to that party.”

 

“I was, but I left my phone in your room before, and as I was going to get it, I saw this on the dresser,” he holds up the Senior Art Show flyer, “and it looked like suddenly my plans had changed. This cool artist I’ve been following was showing some of her stuff here tonight. You might have heard of her. Wanna show me where I can see her?”

 

“You’re a pain in the ass, you know that?”

 

“We just gonna stand here and re-state stuff you’ll tell me about 12 more times before tomorrow? Take me to my girl!”

 

“Can’t do that, cowboy.”

 

“Yes! It’s back. God, I missed you.” He beams and his eyes twinkle before scooping her up into a bone-crushing hug that puts all the pieces of Maya’s heart back into place.

 

It’s sickening how quickly he can do that. Go from being the worst guy on the planet to close to the best. She grabs his hand and walks back inside. “So, your girl, tell me about her. Maybe I know her. We might have class together.”

 

“You’d be lucky to. She’s pretty amazing.”

 

(And that’s her favorite work of art.)

 

By the time they make it into the room where her stuff is again, he’s chasing her with tickles, or some other sort of cheesy shit like that and her face is lit up in infectious giggles and the brightest smile anyone’s seen on her all day and her professor is standing in front of her wall, and she almost bumps into him trying to escape the tickle monster. She stops right behind him, grabbing both of Lucas’s hand behind her to stop him too. And at the sound of their giggles, he turns around.

 

“Maya, I’m so glad you did this, your work is simply—”

 

“Wow.” Lucas lets out a breath from behind her as he looks up at her wall.

 

“Exactly the word I’d use, sir.” The professor says, turning to Lucas and offering his hand. “Nice to meet you. I’ve heard a lot about you. And now seen a lot too.” He winks, looks up at the paintings again, and before Maya can protest, the professor adds, “I love seeing you this happy, Miss Hart. It’s good to know you’re not alone.” He smiles once more, then moves to the next set of exhibits.

 

“What’s he talking about?”

 

“Nothing, nothing.” Maya says, turning around to face him again, not letting go of his hands, “Just, some people can be a little harsh about the whole, dating a superstar thing and it hasn’t been easy going to classes by myself.”

 

“What?! What are they doing to you, are you okay?”

 

“I’m fine,” Maya laughs, “I swear. Professor said as long as I’m happy I shouldn’t care what everyone else thinks.”

 

“I know firsthand that that’s easier said than done.” He looks at her with big worried eyes. “Are you sure, everything’s fine?”

 

“You think someone’s who’s not happy could paint that?” She points up to her canvases, brushed with bright yellows and reds, depicting her view of the tabletops on their various dates: a counter, a couch, a pillow, a car seat. “Wherever you go, I go. Right?”

 

* * *

 

 It’s the next Friday and Maya’s more excited than she was for the art show. Okay, maybe a little bit of an exaggeration, but it’s close.

 

It had been hard to tear him away from Smackle’s adoring gaze that night, in awe of the fact that the hottie she had followed through her best friend’s writing for the past 4 years was standing in front of her, in person, making heart-eyes at said best friend, but Lucas flew out the morning after the show to do press for his latest movie, a silly rom-com that was sure to make millions, and that Maya had secretly been dying to see.

 

He’s been gone all week, but the Assholes have kept her busy. She’s watched him attend premiere after premiere and guess what ladies and gents, it was finally her turn to go to one.

 

Lucas would fly back today for the LA premiere that she’d get to go to with him, as his official plus one. Perks.

 

She was beyond excited. For multiple reasons.

 

The management team had dropped off her dress and shoes and whatnot the night before and they were coming this afternoon to get her ready. Maya was laying on her bed with Riley, gushing about all the celebrities she’d get to meet tonight, how freaking amazing her next article would be, how hot she was going to look.

 

“Can I be your plus one?”

 

“I don’t think it works like that, Riles.”

 

“But I wanna go! I sign papers, you walk red carpets. Something here is not right.”

 

“You know you have a boyfriend who’s just as famous as mine.”

 

“He’s not my boyfriend!” Riley objects with a bright red face and snuggles deeper into her pillow to hide, “And since when do we refer to Mr. Pain in the Ass Friar as ‘your boyfriend’?”

 

And then it was Maya’s turn to blush.

 

The doorbell rang, wait just kidding they _don’t have a doorbell_ , but whoever was outside had a killer knock, because they could hear it. It got louder and angrier as Maya bolted down the steps, (“God, someone’s in a hurry”) but when she opened the door she didn’t mind that they had interrupted her quality time with Riley.

 

“Cowboy!” She jumped into his arms faster than the door could open all the way and the pair didn’t make a move to let Jenny and the Assholes in behind them.

 

“And to think this was just a week. I can’t wait to be gone for a month. Missed me, blondie?” She rolled her eyes, “Sorry, _Maya._ ”

 

“Much better.” She twists her lips up into a smile and pulls him inside.

 

“I still don’t understand why I don’t get to pick a cute nickname for you but you can call me any dumb thing that’s even the slightest bit related to the fact that I’m from Texas. It’s not fair.”

 

“But you still let me.” She sing-songs

 

“This is true.” He says, opening the fridge and grabbing a can of soda.

 

“Not so fast, Mr. Friar. We only stopped here to get you dressed.” Jennifer says as she enters the kitchen.

 

“You said we were coming so he could say hi to Maya?” Zay appears from behind, and what do you know, there’s Riley right behind him. Not my boyfriend, she says. Lies.

 

“Yeah, can’t I have two seconds to relax. You’ve been killing me all week.” Lucas says, settling into a seat next to Maya at the table.

 

“After tonight you can take whatever rest you want, Lucas.” Jennifer points some of her army upstairs where Maya assumes they’ll start setting up everything to get ready. She hears her dress calling her name.

 

“Maybe if she brought a larger fleet we could start a little later. There’s like 2 people here! And I haven’t even showered yet, so she’s gonna have to wait.” Maya whispers to Riley next to her, then looks at Jennifer and says, “Sorry, my rooms a mess, I can go clean it up a little before they go in,” and she starts to walk towards the steps but Jennifer stops her.

 

“That won’t be necessary, Maya.”

 

“You’re starting to scare me, Jenny. What’s goin’ on?” Zay shakes his head.

 

“The team has decided it would be best for Mr. Friar to attend the premiere alone tonight.”

 

Hell no.

 

“What?! When did that happen? Why was I not invited to this meeting!” Zay yells.

 

“Me too! Where was I for this decision?” Riley jumps out of her seat.

 

“She hasn’t been at any of the other premieres, to make her first appearance now, at the end of the press tour would not be wise.”

 

“I got a few wise things to say to you, Jennifer.” And when Zay uses her full name, you know she’s in for it. “How can you just make such blatant decisions without consulting us? Beyond being apart of their management, we’re their friends. Where you might see this as a strategic publicity move, we actually have feelings. Your robots don’t. So your decision is invalid.”

 

“No it is _not_ , Isaiah.” Oh shit. It’s going down, they’re both angry now.

 

“If I may, Jennifer,” Lucas stands up form his seat, “I know it’s your job to do what’s best for me, but how do you ever really know what the best is?”

 

“I’ve gotten you where you are now, isn’t that the best?”

 

“Yeah, but now I have things I care about. I _care_ about what happens to me, and I want a say. When you make decisions, you do what looks best on paper, but it’s not best for me. You don’t care about what _I_ care about.”

 

“I do care, Mr. Friar.”

 

“You don’t! You obviously don’t.” Lucas ruffles his hair and paces back and forth, “A few months ago, someone taught me that when you care about someone, it doesn’t matter what you have to do to make things okay for them and it doesn’t matter how it affects you. So what, if they write some dumb article about me tomorrow morning? I wanna have fun at the premiere tonight.”

 

“You’re still going to the premiere.”

 

“But Maya isn’t. And that’s what I care about. Where she goes, I go.”

 

“Lucas, don’t—” Maya starts to say, because it’s really not worth it, it isn’t, she knew things like this were going to happen sooner or later, this all looks great but behind the scenes it’s a mess.

 

“No, I’m not going if she’s not. And trust me, that story will be a lot worse than whatever they come up with for the two of us there.”

 

Zay and Riley start talking to Jennifer, probably trying to reason and argue why her decision is so pointless.

 

“Lucas you have to go.” Maya leans in close and whispers to him, forgetting whatever is happening behind her.

 

“No I don’t. Not if you’re not there. We’re a packaged deal!”

 

“I know.” She laughs. He doesn’t. “Look, someone pretty smart taught you all those things you just screamed at Jenny just now, which was kickass by the way. She’s just taking a little of her own advice.”

 

“These things sucked all week without you. Do you know how many times I turned to say something hilarious to you that would have had you peeing in your pants but you weren’t there? It was pathetic.”

 

“You just said it yourself. You did them all week, you can do one more. You don’t need me.”

 

“ _But I do_.” And there they were. Those three little words. Maya’s heart was so happy it could burst.

 

“Maybe we can set me up in an earpiece or something, like we had Zay for our first dates.”

 

Now he laughed, “God, now _that_ was pathetic.”

 

“We’ve gotten a lot better. Look, you actually want me to go somewhere with you.”

 

“Packaged deal.” He squeezes her hand.

 

Lucas tells Jenny he’ll go without her and Zay and Riley can only sit there in silence as they watch it happen.

 

“What just happened?” Zay says as Lucas runs upstairs.

 

“Just making things okay for each other.”

 

* * *

 

Maya wakes up on the couch at 7:30 that night, one hand in a bag of chips the other on her phone under, resting under her, the screen still lit up from texting Lucas, the TV open to live coverage of the movie premiere she had to miss because being famous sucks.

 

She hears a key twist and the swoosh of the door. Her heart stops for a moment, because it’s dark out and she’s home alone (fucking he’s-not-my-boyfriend Riley went out with Zay anyway) but within moments she hears that sweet southern charm.

 

“What are you doing home? Don’t you have an after party to be at?” She asks, jumping up from the couch.

 

“Now, what kind of fun would that be?”

 

“Probably tons.”

 

“Not as fun as this—” He smirks, and lifts up 2 movie tickets. “If you get dressed and we’re out the door in ten minutes we’ll make it to the midnight premiere.”

 

“It’s 7:34.”

 

“Can’t go anywhere they’ll spot me. It’ll be a long ride, but I’ll entertain you with my beautiful singing voice.”

 

“As long as it’s not country.”

 

“I make no promises.” He throws his hands up. Maya grabs one and starts to pull him out the door with a beam, but “Whoa there, slow down. If I’m dressed up, you’re getting dressed up too.”

 

“To sit in the back row of a sketchy movie theater and accidentally brush hands when we reach for popcorn at the same time as we watch you make out with someone on the big screen?”

 

“We can do some making out too, if that’s where you’re going with this.”

 

“Are we even allowed?”

 

“To make out?”

 

“To go to the movies.” She rolls her eyes and plays with his fingers she’s still holding onto.

 

“How do you think I got the tickets? Jenny’s a secret sap. There’s a heart in there somewhere.”

 

“So I seriously have to put the dress on?”

 

“Do you plan on showing up to the rest of my premieres in your sweatpants?”

 

“But how will I be able to sneak into your seat for the making out you promised if I’m in a dress?” but she smiles and runs up the stairs, runs right back down within minutes and hops into the car.

 

His singing is horrendous. Absolutely ear-splitting and glass-shattering. And the wind is doing wonders on her hair as it blows out the window. Her black dress is stained with drops of vanilla ice cream they stopped for. Her lipstick is smudged from wiping away the sloppy kisses he tried to sneak, which never quite hit her lips. She’s laughed so hard she’s cried. He’s had to pull over a few times because it’s be unsafe to drive if you couldn’t see through your laughter tears. And they haven’t even made it to the movie yet.

 

They run in and grab a bag of popcorn, leaving a trail of laughter and the wave of her long black dress. They slip into their seats in the back, already throwing popcorn at each other. It feels almost scandalous, sneaking out of the house and skipping what’s on the schedule, but at the same time it felt so normal, doing a cliché movie date on a Friday night.

 

Maya knows most of the feelings she’s feeling when he whispers in her ear or beams when he hears her laugh or practically pulls her into his seat with him are the types of feelings people build up for their whole life.

 

Packaged deal? Feels like express shipping.


	5. when you're wrong

**when you’re wrong**

 

“It’s impossible.”

 

“Are you blind? Look at that.”

 

“Shut up, you’re attracting attention.”

 

“You’re the one doing that!”

 

“You are making this up. If I turn around and—”

 

“Do it. I’m right.”

 

“And if you’re not?”

 

“I won’t steal your bed for a week.”

 

“When I win and you’re in my bed tonight, I swear…” Maya warns as she slightly turns her head to look behind her, and what do you know? The waiters really _are_ checking her out. She scoots her chair in closer.

 

Lucas must notice the red tint her cheeks have taken on and he beams, lights up the room, “Oh, I told you! C’mon, say it. I was right.”

 

“I’m not saying it.” She shifts in her chair, arms crossed, and feels him kick her under the table. “Okay, fine. You were right.”

 

“That was beautiful.” He pretends to wipe a tear off his cheek with his napkin, reaches across the table to grab Maya’s water and take a sip, and ends up kicking her again. She almost forgives it. “But seriously, the victory of being right does not feel half as good as I’d hoped because that means I’m watching 3 pervy guys hit on you.”

 

“Relax, cowboy, it’s not like they’ve—”

 

“Here’s the check when you’re ready. We hope you enjoyed your meal.” Their waiter places the check on the table, lingers for a moment, _winks,_ so Lucas sees red and green all at once, (Merry fucking Christmas,) and Maya feels like crawling under the table.

 

“Given you their numbers?” Lucas raises and eyebrow. “If I’m right again, Maya…”

 

“I don’t even wanna look at it.” She hands it over and lets out a sigh. “I don’t get it. Guys never looked at me in high school.”

 

“Find that hard to believe.” He smirks, barely looking up from the check as he signs it and scribbles the numbers out.

 

“Swear to god. I was a hot blonde with a best friend on the cheer team, you’d think at least someone…”

 

“And now you’re a hot blonde with a boyfriend who’s a movie star.”

 

“Did you just call me hot?”

 

“Not the point,” He sighs and closes the check, eyes meeting hers with a twinkle.

 

“So what, then? Shacking up with a rich hot guy makes me hotter?”

 

“Oooh, look who’s calling who hot now!” He laughs and Maya considers throwing her water in his face. “As long as we both recognize how fucking hot of a couple we make, promise we’ll stay together?”

 

“Only for the sake of looking at your abs when you get out of the shower.”

 

“That’s the spirit! True love at it’s finest!” He reaches across the table and grabs her hand, “Besides, Jenny says I have to propose by the end of the week. Anything specific you want?”

 

“Never thought I’d be having this conversation.”

 

“C’ _mon_ , this is like every girl’s dream. Complete control over her fantasy proposal. Just name it and I’ll make it happen.”

 

“I have _never_ had a dream like that.”

 

“Seriously? Not even like, Disneyland.”

 

“Not a fairytale type, I guess.”

 

“Ugh, you make this so difficult.”

 

“If anything I’m making it easier. You could literally propose to me with a ring pop and I’d say yes.” He laughs and she smiles too.

 

“A ring pop?”

 

“As long as it’s coming from you.” Her heart has a severe butterfly problem, she feels it, and fuck she didn’t want to. She just has to say yes because it’s her job. She has to. (She ignores the fact that she so badly _wants_ to.)

 

“Maybe I’ll just pop the question when we’re snuggling in your comfy bed tonight watching Disney movies.”

 

“When did I agree to that?”

 

“A few months ago, Jenny made you sign a contract saying you’d marry me, ring a bell?”

 

“I meant the snuggling, Huckleberry.” She rolls her eyes, and grabs her purse, getting ready to leave.  


“Oh _that_.” Lucas says standing up and laughing, “Just now. When you were wrong and I was right. Plus, I wanna rub it in those jerk waiters’ faces that you’ve only got eyes for me.”

 

“Took the words right out of my mouth.” She shakes her head and stand up, but grabs his hand anyway as they leave the restaurant and head home for snuggling.

 

(He doesn’t propose in bed that night. Though he is especially moved by Rapunzel and Flynn Rider’s epic romance. He asks Maya if they can get a chameleon instead. She almost says yes.)

 

* * *

 

Riley fusses over little things. Maya has noticed this in the months she’s been glued to her hip. And it hasn’t bothered her. It’s quirky. Maya almost wants to say she likes it. But then, she lives the week from hell.

 

The management team is planning with Lucas to have the proposal sometime this week, but in order to keep the suspense up, make Maya’s reaction look more real, they have disclosed absolutely zero pieces of information to Maya. And subsequently Riley.

 

That drives her insane.

 

She’s not in control. She likes to be in control. She needs to know what happens and why it happens and how it happens and who it’s happening with and all this _not knowing_ is the exact opposite of that.

 

Today, day 6, Maya focuses directly on the computer screen in front of her, for fear if she makes even a millisecond of eye contact with Riley she’ll jump up and try to change her outfit again or re-read her schedule or take her out to lunch or something. She just needs a break.

 

“Are you sure you don’t wanna change your outfit? A nice dress, maybe? Anything but that sweatshirt?” Riley whines from the other side of Maya’s desk.

 

“What’s wrong with my sweatshirt?” Maya pulls the sleeves down over her fingers and snuggles up in it as she swivels around to face her.

 

“Nothing, it’s just…” Riley tapers off, but then, with surprised confusion, adds, “Wait is it even yours?”

 

“No.” Maya blushes. She stole it from Lucas. She hoped no one would bring it up.

 

“Oooooh,” Riley smirks and slides her chair over so that her knees are up against Maya. “What’s with you two lately? Dare I say, you actually _like_ each other??!”

 

“I’d barely call it that.”

 

“I would!” Riley shrieks, “I’ve seen him talk to Zay and Jenny all the time about you. He rearranges his schedule so that he gets home at night earlier. And I have seen no other girls flying down your steps at two o’clock in the morning, so he obviously does it to spend more time with you.”

 

“It’s not a big deal Riley, I mean, he had to stop doing bad stuff like that anyway.”

 

“But it happened overnight! One day, we’ve got the whole floor covering stories on him, the next, I’m sent home early because the two of you are going out to dinner. Alone.”

 

Maya wishes Riley knew how to un-fixate.

 

“Look Maya,” Riley grabs her hand, “Whatever you are doing is working. You’re doing your job. But promise me you’ll have fun doing it too. You have a guy that would literally move the moon for you, and the only thing you ever ask him to do is make your bed.”

 

“Trust me, that’s a lot for him.” Maya laughs.

 

“Whatever you say, Maya. When he gets over wooing you and you realize maybe you liked it, don’t come crying to me. Though maybe we should practice some tears for the engagement, which I still hate being out of the loop for.”

 

“Make it up to you by letting you be maid of honor?”

 

“I thought you’d never ask!”

 

* * *

 

"Maya come look at what we found!" Zay waves Maya over to Riley's desk where they are both huddled over the computer screen, along with Farkle and Smackle, who came to visit Maya at work, though they've been spending more time with Zay and Riley. 

 

"Do I wanna see it? Whatever it is?" she shakes her head but walks over anyway.

 

"Yes. Really." Farkle laughs and moves over so Maya can see. 

 

Oh no.

 

"You're famous, Maya!" Smackle yells and points at the social media feed on the screen. "Fan accounts. For you!"

 

"No way," Maya looks again and she can't believe it. "This has to be a joke. A parody or something."

 

"Not a joke. You have  _fans,_ " Zay says and pats her on the back, "Not too hard to believe."

 

"I disagree," Farkle raises his hand and Maya wonders if a glare is sufficient or she should throw a punch. 

 

"How do people even know anything about me? They can't be a fan when literally the only time they see me is when I'm holding Lucas's hand."

 

"Honey, we all know you guys do more than hold hands. I don't blame you though," Smackle says, fanning herself.

 

"That's false. We're waiting until marriage," Maya rolls her eyes, earns a laugh from Zay and feels two arms wrap around her.

 

"What are we looking at? Woah, blondie, look at you." Lucas glanced up and down the screen, "Seems like they're all fans of your middle finger to the paparazzi."

 

"Jerks. Why does everyone need pictures of me anyway? I'm funny looking."

 

"True." "Not true." Farkle and Lucas say simultaneously. You can guess which came from who.

 

"Maya, you're more than just Lucas's plus one now. People care about what happens to you." Riley says.

 

"I find that hard to believe. But okay, if you say so. Who is this girl, I wanna meet her." Maya leans over and starts to scroll through the Twitter profile on the screen.

 

"What? You can't just meet your fans!" 

 

"Listen, cowboy, maybe you can't just walk up to your fans, for fear they'd steal pieces of your clothes, your hair to make clones, something dumb like that. But I've only got one fan. Might as well say thanks."

 

"And this is why the people like you better than him," Zay smirks, "Why don't you just message this girl. She could live all the way in Jersey for all we know. Meeting her isn't likely."

 

The group disbands to get lunch and leaves Maya and Lucas by the computer. Maya starts typing. 

 

"You really wanna meet her, huh?" Lucas slides onto the armrest of Maya's chair as she swivels around.

 

"Look how sweet she seems," Maya laughs, "I sound ridiculous, don't I?"

 

"I think it's sweet," Lucas sings, a hand on Maya's, "Speaking of, sorry I had to cancel on our trip to Disneyland the other night. Make it up to you tonight?"

 

"Promise?"

 

"Pinky."

 

Maya hits send on her message and stands up to see Jenny for her latest writing assignment. 

 

"Oh, and Huckleberry, it's day 7 and I still don't see a ring on my finger," she calls over her shoulder as her heels click clack down the shiny white floors.

 

"Thought you didn't care about that stuff?"

 

"Said I didn't care _how_ you did it, as long as you actually _did it_." She winks and picks up her pace. She should feel embarrassed, but she mostly feels in love. 

 

* * *

 

A few hours later she's siting on her couch, eyes half dropping half watching Wheel of Fortune. 

 

"Rise and Shine, Blondie. We've got a dinner to attend."

 

"What?" Maya sits up groggily and yawns.

 

"Jenny didn't tell you?"

 

"She doesn't tell me about any of the fun stuff."

 

"I promise, this will not be that fun. I wanted it to just be the two of us, but they invited like 40 other people."

 

"Who?" she says, not knowing exactly what she's referring to.

 

"Doesn't matter. All I know is we are really late and if we don't get there in like 10 minutes, I'm gonna miss my 1 week deadline," Lucas says, running around the kitchen, putting on shoes and trying to tie a tie.

 

"I got ya," Maya walks over and ties it for him, "How did you ever get dressed before me?"

 

"Why do you think I'm about to propose to you?"

 

"Didn't think you had much choice in the matter," she looks squarely at the tie, trying to not make eyes contact and completely lose it.

 

"Not a fan of the way this is about to go down, but you did say as long as it was from me…"

 

"You promised me Disneyland."

 

"Look who cares after all!" Lucas smirks, and Maya can't help it this time. She loses it. 

 

"You are the only fairytale I've ever had in my life."

 

"Prince Charming doesn't break promises," he winks and heads towards the door, "Farkle was hiding the ring for me, I have to pick it up. Be dressed when I get back."

 

"Oh really? What's that little black box in your pocket?" Maya raises and eyebrow as she shuts the door.

 

"The other ring." 

 

Maya doesn't have enough energy to figure it out. She'll never be able figure it out, figure _him_ out. But she's glad she'll have a long engagement to try.

 

* * *

 

He proposes at dinner. 

 

The room is filled with a bunch of people she doesn’t know, some she recognizes from movies Lucas has been in, a few from the third floor. She doesn’t spend much time talking to any of them, clinging to either Riley or Lucas and feeding only one word answers. She may be famous now, but she’ll never fit in with the famous crowd.

 

And everything looks lovely, the room is decorated beautifully, the food is to die for, Lucas’s sweet laugh is her favorite, and maybe she’s having fun. Until.

 

The sun is setting out the big glass window behind them and he just up and gets down on one knee, for all the hints she never saw it coming, and he says something about how in love with her he is and it sounds like Jenny all over, her words taking on Lucas’s voice, she can’t even get herself to care.

 

But she cries, just like she and Riley practiced. It all looks very convincing. She kisses him breathless and she almost forgets. He makes the 1 week deadline. She shakes when he puts the ring on her finger. She feels like hiding it from all the cameras in the room. Maya's one fan is the first one not in the room to know, because that's the first person Maya tells when she sneaks into the bathroom to cry for real.

 

Maya never saw herself getting married. Life has not presented true love in the greatest lighting for Maya, her mom and dad the closest example. So she never dreamed, she never wondered, she never even thought. 

 

But she hoped. And maybe that was he biggest mistake of all.

 

Because she's known this would happen for months now. And she's had time to face the facts, to accept it, but she hasn't. Here she is, shiny ring on her left hand, having a panic attack about an engagement that isn't real, will never be real.

 

Riley's the first one who finds her, of course. "We have to stop meeting like this," she whispers, and tries fixing Maya's hair as he slumps on the floor.

 

"This was so disappointing," Maya laughs, "I never wanted to get married, because I thought marriage was dumb, love was temporary. But I always hoped one day a guy would propose to me and I'd be filled with this deep feeling that proved me wrong. This  _love_  that said, 'You were wrong Maya, I'm real, and I'm the best thing that's ever going to happen to you.'"

 

"And it's not?"

 

"I really thought it was going to be. I really did. That's why this is so much harder. Because I already thought marriage was a scam, then I signed a contract into the scammiest marriage ever, and I know it and I still feel like crap about it."

 

"Please don't cry about it, he really loves you--"

 

"Why are people so convinced that we're in love? The chances of that are so incredibly slim, even worse than _The Bachelor_. At least there he'd have choices."

 

"He'd choose you in a heartbeat, you know it. He dropped all the bad things in his life because you asked him to. I promise, this is going to be okay."

 

"How do you know?" Maya sniffles.

 

"Best friend powers. I just do. You don't really think Mr. Over the Top was going to settle for Jenny's dumb dinner party proposal. He didn't even get to use his heartfelt speech. I read all the drafts, trust me, you'd be crying for a much different reason." Maya still looks skeptical, "Maya, I promise, no one wants you to get that feeling more than me. Not even Lucas, though, he's gonna try to beat me out in an hour or so."

 

* * *

 

He proposes at Disneyland. And that's the one Maya's gonna count.

 

They leave the dinner early, Riley and Zay cover for them with Jenny, telling her it’s the "after party" ("Kids these days!") and after a long car ride, they're sneaking into Disneyland. 

 

Maya sees Lucas talking to someone, he must have arranged this, because the park is closing and they're going in, just the 2 of them, hiding in black jackets so the paparazzi doesn't have a second chance at a middle finger shot. The internet is abuzz with news of the engagement, it's surprising they find some solitude so easily.

 

Lucas checks for something in his pocket, Maya can't tell what it is, though she's teetering on the edge of sleep deprivation and the drinks they downed in the car on the way here so she can't decipher much. They run down the middle, straight up the park and stop right in front of the castle.

 

“You didn’t break the promise!”

 

“A promise is a promise, right? Sorry we missed the fireworks, though.”

 

“You’ll probably make up for it.”

 

“You know me so well,” his eyes twinkle, like a little kid who can’t wait to open Christmas gifts. He shakes a little, jumps back and forth on his feet, lets out a sigh. “God, just the two of us and this is so much more stressful.”

 

“What is?”

 

Maya look up at the castle, not meaning to, just in awe of it being right there, this big fairytale right in front of her eyes. She feels it, maybe it’s coming after all.

 

Because when she turns around, she almost doesn’t see him. He’s down on one knee again, and in his hand is a bright cherry ring pop.

 

“Yes!” She goes to grab the candy, but Lucas pulls away.

 

“C’mon, let me have my moment. I’ve worked this up for weeks, just lemme do it.”

 

“I’m not going to remember anything you say because I’m already too excited.”

 

“Are you serious right now?”

 

“Just telling you the facts, cowboy. I’m looking at your eyes but all I see is how good that cherry ring pop is going to taste when I put it in my mouth.”

 

“What if I kiss you first?”

 

“Then it’ll be like we never missed the fireworks.”

 

So he does. He holds the ring pop out so it doesn’t get stuck in her hair, uses the other hand to pull her face right up to his, she barely has time to breathe it in even though she really wants to because this is it, this is the aha moment, this is when love proves her wrong.

 

Nothing has ever felt more right.

 

“This is insane,” is the first thing she can breathe out when she separates from him just enough to touch noses.

 

“What’s insane is that you never let me give my speech. I didn’t even ask the question!”

 

“Okay, you big baby, give it to me, lemme hear,” she laughs.

 

“Well now I forgot it, you’ve distracted me.”

 

“Too bad.”

 

“Really is, I think I had a joke in there, may have even complimented you.”

 

“So you do actually like me?”

 

“Best friends forever.”  
  
“Sure seems that way, ” she says as she looks down at her finger, not as much in disbelief as before, because it feels so right. No they may not be conventional, they’re not really dating and maybe they’re not really engaged, this isn’t perfect and maybe it’s not fairytale love, but she doesn’t care. It’s some type of love, she feels it and she knows it and she loves it. Who knows what they are, best friends or lovers or what. All she knows is she’s found her person, whatever he may be, he’s hers, and isn’t that all love needs to be.

 

She makes up her mind right then and there, that she’ll pretend for the rest of her life, she’ll live like this forever and ever, even if he never loves her like that, because whatever he does feel, it’s enough, it’s hers. She could stay right there forever.

 

But then she remembers they’re in fucking Disneyland all by themselves.

 

“When do we get to go on all the rides, my Prince?”

 

“Tomorrow morning. I’ve got the weekend off.”

 

“How convenient.”

 

“Zay pulled some strings, also I hope you don’t mind…” he turns around and as if on cue, out comes Zay, Riley, Farkle and Smackle. Riley runs at her first, headfirst into a bone crushing hug.

 

“Told ya, Maya.”

 

“You’ve some big shoes to fill when it’s your turn,” Maya laughs, still certain she’ll marry Riley one day. She knows it.

 

“Alright folks, let’s head in. I wanna be first on line tomorrow morning. And I know a few of you are sleepy heads,” Zay shoots Lucas a look, “So let’s hit it. Need all our energy.” The four friends start running out, Zay chasing Riley and Farkle and Smackle suspiciously close. Lucas hangs back with Maya, who’s sitting on the floor, wondering how she got so lucky.

 

“Whatcha’ thinking about, shortstack?” he crouches down next to her.

 

“The god awful English paper I have due on Tuesday.”

 

Lucas laughs and Maya swears his smile lights up the entire park.

 

“Did I ever tell you how cool you are?” She says and twists her head to face him, her eyes right on his.

 

“I don’t recall.”

 

“Well I just want you to remember how much I like you right now, so when I start getting all Bridezilla on you you don’t try to break up with me.”

 

“Oh no, you’re one of _those?_ ”

 

“I have a feeling Jenny will be much worse than me, but just in case,” she holds her hand out, he grabs it, she catches his eyes one more time, “Huckleberry, I love… THIS CHERRY RING POP!” she shoots her left hand up right before his face leans in close enough to touch and licks the ring pop.

 

“No way, Maya Hart! No way, I’ll take it back!” He scoops her up over his shoulder and starts to run down the road again. Maya follows the castle as it gets smaller and smaller, their laughter echoing and mixing with the sweet taste of her cherry ring pop. For as small as the castle gets behind her, the fluttery feeling in her chest gets bigger and bigger.

 

“I love you too, Maya, just for the record.”

 

“Good to know.” And it really is.  

 

Maya has never loved being wrong so much.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi friends! i'm sorry this took forever. hope it's worth it! thank you all for being the bestest ever. xoxo --katie


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